


Dear Moonlight

by daphnerunning, Galiko



Series: Dear Moonlight [1]
Category: Ensemble Stars! (Video Game)
Genre: Dubcon Mention, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, eating disorder mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-11
Updated: 2017-05-15
Packaged: 2018-08-30 07:09:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 74,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8523436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daphnerunning/pseuds/daphnerunning, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Galiko/pseuds/Galiko
Summary: When the day ends, Izumi might take off too-quickly to be normal, arriving at Leo’s house in record time. A request to actually see him is rare these days, and Izumi restlessly pushes his bangs out of his face, pops a breath mint, and glowers at the front door. I’m skipping out on a job for this, he thinks, and knocks immediately. It’s worth it.Tsukinaga Leo is the most annoying thing in the world, and here he is, at his beck and call anyway.





	1. Chapter 1

It isn’t exactly a text message that Tsukinaga Leo sends to Sena Izumi. The message itself is rather simple, a single line of text, a pedestrian message that would have fit into a single text message easily.

 

Instead, it’s sent encoded into a song, recorded on a thumb drive, slipped into Izumi’s school cubby before he gets to school. When the song is played, one word plays every few seconds.

 

**_“Sena....come....to....my....house.........ooooohhhhhh...after............school..........”_ **

 

This is the most annoying thing in the world, Izumi decides.

 

 _Why_ Leo has to go out of his way to send this instead of just a damned text message is beyond him, and having to listen through the entire song to get this easily conveyed request. Even if it’s annoying, it still brings back a startling wave of nostalgia, and Izumi finds himself less-than-begrudgingly listening to the stupid ‘song’ off and on all day.

 

When the day ends, Izumi _might_ take off too-quickly to be normal, arriving at Leo’s house in record time. A request to actually _see him_ is rare these days, and Izumi restlessly pushes his bangs out of his face, pops a breath mint, and glowers at the front door. _I’m skipping out on a job for this_ , he thinks, and knocks immediately. It’s worth it.

 

“I’ve got it! It’s for me!”

 

The yell comes before some crashing, some odd rustling, some clattering, and about two full minutes. Then footsteps approach the door at a run, and Leo opens the door wide, ginger ponytail quivering as if it’s the tail of a small, furry animal. “Sena! What are you doing here? I knew you’d come!”

 

“If you’re gonna ask questions like that, don’t answer them yourself,” Izumi scolds, shoving his schoolbag up onto his shoulder with a scowl. Leo, at least, looks energized and bright-eyed, something that still fluctuates from time to time. Izumi knows, he watches closely. “You told me to come, so I’m here. You gonna invite me in?”

 

“You deciphered my message!”

 

Leo throws the door open in delight, grabbing Izumi by the wrist and tugging him inside. His clothes are rumpled, his eyes less hooded than they have been in the last few months. There’s steel behind them, as if he’s reached some kind of decision, and he isn’t struggling with his choices any longer. “We’ve got to prepare for battle! To my room!”

 

“Battle? What battle?” Izumi doesn’t resist, barely having a chance to toe off his shoes before stumbling after Leo at his tug. “It wasn’t that much deciphering, y’know,” he grouses. “You could’ve texted me. Did you forget how to use your damned phone, Ou-sama?”

 

“It’s out of space. Or I lost it. Doesn’t really matter, does it? Maybe I hate phones now, Sena.”

 

Leo shuts the door, and drags a chair in front of the door, carefully wedging the back under the handle. “Saw that in the movies. Dunno why that particular formation works, but it’s definitely a popular design. I’m not an architect, you know!”

 

“Don’t hate phones, or it’ll be impossible to keep track of you,” Izumi sighs, tossing his bag down next to the door before dropping down onto the end of Leo’s familiar bed. The room is still in its usual disarray, but it’s more of an organized chaos this time instead of a mess of clothes and papers and pens, and Izumi can make sense of what is going on, sort of. “Why are we barricaded? I really don’t think anyone’s coming for us today.”

 

“Battle plans. You never know where the enemy is hiding.” Leo looks around, as if someone might be lurking by the window, and tacks a huge piece of butcher paper to the wall. It’s covered in marker scribbles that sort of look like song names, though they aren’t any songs that Izumi has ever heard of.

 

Leo stares at the paper for a long, long minute in perfect silence. His shoulders quiver, back held so straight it seems he’s holding it that way by the skin of his teeth, jaw set firmly. “I need to make a confession to you, Sena.”

 

Stupid, how his heart thuds in his chest. _Not that kind of confession, dumbass!_ he immediately scolds himself, though he’s suddenly pretty grateful he popped a breath mint all the same. Honestly, though, Izumi _hopes_ it isn’t that kind of confession, what with how unsure and uncomfortable Leo suddenly looks. That’d be awful. “Okay,” he says, trying to sound less annoyed for once, and more sort of…warily concerned. “Go ahead, I’m listening.”

 

“The Live where we were crushed by fine,” Leo says, as if he hasn’t been avoiding speaking of that Live for almost a year now. “It was my fault. You know that. You know I fell apart. But you don’t know....why.”

 

His hands clench into fists, and lines of pain crease the edges of his eyes. “I can’t fight their songs. I wrote them.”

 

Izumi opens his mouth, then shuts it again. He stares back at Leo for what feels like far too long, but it’s barely a few seconds before he says, quietly, “I know.”

 

Rather, he’d _suspected._ It wasn’t the sound, but the _feel_ of them—but saying that sounds ridiculous, especially from someone who’s a damned amateur next to someone like Tsukinaga Leo. Izumi hesitates, glancing down at his hands, his fingers curling against his knees. “I figured there had to be a reason for it, and I don’t care what it was, so you don’t have to tell me. I don’t…blame you, Ou-sama.”

 

Leo looks back sharply. His face is a wild storm of emotions, richocheting swiftly between pain, anger, shame, pride, and a deep, desperate longing finally satisfied, but with a bittersweet result. “You’ve got to fight them for me, Sena,” he says, turning to stare at the paper. “If you knew...you can beat them. You can beat me. I know it. I believe in you, more than any of us.”

 

“W…what?” Izumi’s head jerks up, his brow furrowing deeply. “No. No way, that’s weird. I—“ He sucks in a sharp breath. “If Tenshouin challenged us right now, today, I’d take him out. But I’m not gonna crush something you made and still call your own if I can help it.”

 

Something intangible sparks in Leo’s eyes, and he shakes his head, firmly. “I can only think of two ways to do it, in the end. I can destroy my own creations--take them apart and disavow them, crushing them into the ground--or I can become someone else, and make songs that the old me could never hope to match. Or...I can give you my sword.”

 

“Ou-sama…” Izumi hates the way his voice trails off and wavers. Why Leo thinks _he_ is capable of this is is beyond him, especially when he’s proven to be barely beyond useless in the past. His fingers curl harder against his knees. “If you need me to be your sword, fine,” he finally says, his heart thudding harder, faster. _What am I even saying?_ “But you better also be writing more songs that the old you could never hope to match. I’m sick of the same old playlist.”

 

Leo’s face bursts into sudden clear relief, bordering on exultation. He runs to the bed, and jumps onto Izumi’s lap, throwing both arms around his neck and pulling him in. It looks as if he’s about to make an exclamation and laugh, but his breath is shuddering, voice low, shaking. “I need...to take back what he took from me,” he whispers, hands cold, mouth dry.

 

So close, so _close,_ Leo is so close to him, right in his lap, clinging to his neck, breathing in his face, and Izumi gulps, knowing his eyes are wide and his mouth kind of slack. Shit, he’s really grateful for that mint now. “Okay,” he whispers, his hands trembling, unsure of where to be. “Whatever you want. I…just tell me what you want me to do.”

 

Leo sucks in a breath, then sighs, letting go. “I can’t _tell_ you what to do,” he says, as if it should have been obvious without him saying anything. “The more I tell you, the more my ideas are gonna influence it. Just...prepare a Live like you were going up against me, right? I’ll only give you one hint. But I already gave it to you!”

 

“…That sounds like the worst,” Izumi mutters, his shoulders slumping a little once Leo releases his neck. “But I’ll do it, if you want me to. Ugh, Ou-sama, d’you have to sit on me? You’re heavier than you look.”

 

“That’s good, right?” Leo laughs, squirming around on Izumi’s lap. “What parts of me are heaviest? You should consider this weight training. Or at least, it’s flatness training.”

 

Izumi huffs, and gives up, flopping flat onto his back. His head lands onto one of Leo’s over-stuffed pillows, and he grabs it, pulling it over his face. “Yeah, fine. Just fucking flatten me.”

 

“Hey, Sena. Are you a cherry?”

 

Izumi nearly suffocates himself right then and there. “What the fuck, don’t just _ask_ that.”

 

“Haha! Am I supposed to do some kinda ritual before asking? What should I do if I want to know? I’ll write you another song, maybe?”

 

 _Please write me another song._ “No,” Izumi mumbles into the pillow, feeling his face start to heat up. “I’m not telling unless you do.”

 

“Am I? Heh, what a good question!” Leo flops down, propping his head up on his elbow, trying to catch and hold Izumi’s eyes. They’re a cloudy grey, but the sun has always burned his skin anyway. “I wonder. I hope you liked it, if you did it.”

 

Izumi’s mouth twists. Leo isn’t going to drop this—he never does, when he fixates on something—and it’s not like he’s asking something terrible, just…something kind of awkward. “Yeah. I mean, no, I’m not a cherry boy,” he mutters, peeling the pillow away. “It was good, I guess. Why’re you asking? Stop acting weirder than usual.”

 

“Is that weirder than usual?” Leo reaches out to grab the pillow, tossing it behind him to land on the ground. The curiosity burns in him, stronger than usual, and most times he’d just give into it, but...asking that kind of thing is really too much, even for a king, isn’t it?

 

Instead, he lays a hand on Izumi’s chest. It’s rather narrow, but nice, with a little softness that Izumi probably hates. “Did you like the person you did it with? I bet that would make a difference.”

 

 _That’s_ definitely a weird question, and Izumi blinks up at him frowning. “Why else would I do it?” he asks, hoping Leo can’t feel the way his heart keeps thudding too-fast. There’s no helping it, not when Leo is still kneeling above him and _touching_ him. _Fuck, I’m the worst_ , he wearily thinks. _Now’s not the time to think about stuff like that._ “I mean…I can understand doing it if someone was really hot or something, but…I dunno.” He shrugs, suddenly feeling all the more awkward. “That’s different.”

 

Leo doesn’t answer Izumi’s question. He drums his fingertips gently on Izumi’s chest, feeling the birdlike fluttering of his heart in its bone cage. He opens his mouth to ask another question, then thinks better of it, leaning down to steal a kiss.

 

It doesn’t feel stolen, though. It feels given, almost eagerly, even if Izumi’s breath spikes in sudden startled shock. Leo pulls away, hair falling into his face, and nods. “Much better,” he says with satisfaction. “I was right, it’s good with someone you like.”

 

Izumi hears himself sputter before he registers it, as much as he feels his face flush hot without his control, as much as his hands flutter before balling into fists, entirely unsure of what to do or if he should squirm away on principle or grab Leo and kiss him again or—

 

 _No no no no bad idea, reel it in!_ he thinks in horror, blushing hotter the more the thinks about it. “O-Ou-sama, wh—oi, you can’t just—that’s—you—“ Izumi gulps, staring up at Leo wide-eyed before he blurts out, terribly unhelpfully, “You like me?”

 

“Like you?” Leo does laugh now, bright and loud and delighted. “Sena, I love you! You’re my precious, treasured thing, you know!”

 

It would be good if he could worm himself away and hide underneath the bed, but at the same time, the words spread warmth straight through him, all the way down to his toes. Izumi’s mouth goes dry, feeling every bit the awkward teenager he’s convinced himself he’s not allowed to be on any given day, and the noise that leaves his throat is a sort of helpless one, some kind of a whimper. “You…saying something like that…” he mumbles, weak from the sound of Leo _laughing_ , sounding so much like he used to. “Ou-sama, I…” He turns his head aside, partially burying his face into his hands. “Fuck. This isn’t how it was supposed to go, you shitty king.”

 

“Eh? No? I’m always missing the script, haha!” Leo rolls over, misjudges his roll, and has to wriggle around to perch on top of Izumi, eyes alight. “How did you want it to go? My way is better, obviously, because it was easy to execute and I did it sooner!”

 

“That’s the problem! I was supposed to say it first, and you just—“

 

There’s no turning back from saying something that bold, unfortunately. Izumi exhales a sharp breath, and twists underneath Leo, rolling them abruptly and landing Leo onto his back. His fingers dig into the sheets on either side of Leo’s head, and Izumi feels his arms shake as he tries not to lose his nerve. It’s not like when he’s trying to flirt with Makoto—or even when he and Arashi have kissed, just because they’re both hot and they _can._ This is something different, and Leo is so…stupidly pretty, and delicate-looking, like a waifish girl that he’s supposed to protect. “Don’t freak out, don’t be mad,” he barely manages to rasp, apologizing before he can even begin. “I love you.”

 

“Oh. That’s really good, Sena!”

 

Leo doesn’t struggle at being rolled onto his back, squirming to lay properly flat, arms splaying out to the sides. “Press play on my computer,” he says, feet wriggling in his socks. “I’ve got some songs I wrote for you pulled up. That’s good if you’re lying here with me, isn’t it?”

 

Izumi stares at him, long and hard, and exhales a breath that’s thoroughly exasperated. “Act like it’s a bigger deal or something, asshole,” he mumbles, visibly sulking as he leans away to paw for Leo’s laptop, more or less within arm’s reach. “Ou-sama, you’re a real pain.”

 

But pressing play and hearing music that’s both unfamiliar and familiar makes him flop back down, burying his face into a mix of the bedsheets and Leo’s stupid ponytail as he slumps forward.

 

“Hahaha! Sena, you’re not listening right to the song, are you? Or is it going to be more of a background song?”

 

Leo nuzzles into the side of Izumi’s neck, brow furrowing slightly. “You smell funny. Mm, you can....” He blinks, trying to put his thoughts into words without there being lyrics. His song playing helps. “You can do it.”

 

“I’m listening to it, you just keep talking.” Izumi shifts, trying to be way less pressed against Leo, but it’s almost impossible when they’re cuddled this close. _Fuck_ , he wearily thinks, trying to firmly will away his body’s natural reactions, considering a kiss and a confession, but it’s more or less impossible when Leo is nuzzling his neck, and smells clean and soft. “Do it? Do what?” he mutters. “Don’t smell me if you think I smell weird, dumb Ou-sama.”

 

“Wanna see if I like it.”

 

Leo reaches up, petting Izumi’s styled, slightly crunchy hair, venturing a little lick to Izumi’s neck, then a firm nip. His body is more nervous than his mind is, reminding him of things that had happened months ago, making him want to flinch and pull away, and he only stays pliant by force of will, by force of really wanting this. “I bet you can make me.”

 

Izumi freezes. It was easy to wave away an anti-climatic confession when Leo is Leo, and overreacts to some things, and doesn’t react at all to others. Leo says _I love you_ to everyone he meets, more or less, but that mouth on his neck says something else entirely. Izumi feels sweat drip down the back of his neck, and his cock twitches helplessly. “I—“

 

It isn’t like he hasn’t _thought_ about it, so help him, and the pulse of Leo’s music in his ears isn’t helping when he’s used to jerking off to his iPhone playing full blast. “You’re trembling,” he blurts out, because Leo _is_ , and shit, he doesn’t know how to make _that_ stop.

 

Leo wraps his hands around Izumi’s slender waist, then plucks at his waistband, letting his hands splay on his back, sliding gently up under the fabric. He sucks in a breath, then looks up into Izumi’s gaze, biting his lip slightly. “Tremble with me,” he urges. He tries to let his thighs spread, cradling Izumi between them, but they won’t budge, and the shaking in his hands intensifies no matter how much he stuffs his face in Izumi’s neck, telling it not to.

 

Hormones are a powerful thing, but a million times more powerful, apparently, is Leo trembling and clutching at him and urging him to _do_ things. Izumi is grateful that he’s weak to his stupid king right now, because the touch of those slender fingers against his skin makes his mind short-circuit, and he quickly adjusts when Leo’s legs don’t spread, slinging a leg over his hips to straddle him instead.

 

“Ou-sama,” he rasps, his face buried into Leo’s neck for a moment before he summons the last of his bravery and gently grasps for Leo’s face with trembling fingers. _I bet you can make me like it_ —the words echo in his mind when he lurches down to press their lips together with all the care in the world.

 

Leo’s trembling finally stills, when Izumi’s kiss doesn’t send a surge of shame or disgust through him. He sucks in a long breath, and his smile widens, eyes alight with relief more than anything. “Sena, that was so good,” he breathes, sounding almost _grateful_. “I didn’t hate that at all--I loved it!”

 

“Did you seriously think you’d hate kissing me?” Izumi mutters, half-incredulous, half-not caring because holy shit, he just got to kiss _Leo_ , and his heart is trying to beat its way out of his chest. “Did you think I’d be bad at it or something? Ou-sama, you suck.” Saying that is one thing, but he’s still leaning in to kiss Leo again, gently nipping at his lower lip before sucking on it.

 

There are a lot of words Leo could say about how kissing was scary in the past, followed by much worse things, but Izumi is a gentle boy under it all, and Leo doesn’t want to bring that stuff up if he doesn’t have to. Instead, he lets himself be kissed, nails trailing over Izumi’s pale back, from his neckline down to his hips.

 

Maybe music isn’t the only thing he needs to reclaim from Tenshouin’s clutches.

 

He reaches down and grabs Izumi’s ass, then lets his hands trail around, thumbs hooking in his waistband. “Sena,” he murmurs, because other words won’t come, and that’s who he wants to remember he’s with. “Sena, ahhh, Sena...”

 

Leo’s voice drowns out the sound of the music still playing in the background, and a long shiver goes down Izumi’s spine as he surges down at those encouraging, grabbing hands. Getting a taste of Leo’s mouth makes him groan, low and insistent, and he can feel the way his face heats up, embarrassed over how throaty and stupid and _over-eager_ he sounds. “Sorry,” Izumi mutters. “You’re so…” _Good. Perfect. Something like that._ His fingers twitch when he works up the nerve to splay them against Leo’s hip, over the flat plane of his stomach, and he sucks in a sharp breath at how soft the skin feels underneath his touch.

 

Leo waits for the nervousness to start, but it’s still good, it’s still fun, it’s still _Sena_. He lays back, letting his arms fall to his sides again, content for the moment to be touched and stroked by Izumi’s gentle, cool hands. “You should work on your circulation more, Sena. Maybe some full-body exercises. If you’re still dancing...”

 

His thoughts trail away, and he finds he can’t really care about Izumi’s circulation anymore, not when he’s being petted. “You look very Knightly above me, you know. That’s good! A dignified protector...”

 

“Shut up,” Izumi grumbles, his blush intensifying. It’s pretty dumb how that goes straight to his dick. If anyone else had said that, he’d probably shove them down a flight of stairs or something. “Ou-sama,” he adds, exasperated, more flustered the longer he thinks about it. “When you’re making out with someone, saying something like that…ugh. Forget it.” Better than trying to explain how much nicer it is to _not_ talk at times like these is to just grab Leo’s face again and kiss him soundly, letting his tongue cut off any other words that might try to escape when he lets himself thoroughly taste Leo’s mouth.

 

Leo tries talking for a moment, protesting that Izumi can’t expect him to know what to say if he doesn’t _tell_ him, but it turns out it’s difficult to say that kind of thing around someone else’s tongue. He tries, but the sounds come out garbled, and more fun anyway is sticking his own tongue in Izumi’s mouth, rubbing it against the slick heat of Izumi’s. Probably, he’s pretty good at this kissing thing.

 

Leo kissing him back makes Izumi groan against his mouth, and he sucks on the tongue shoved into his mouth. He shifts again, cock aching against the trousers of his school uniform, and his fingers tentatively slide down, hooking into the waistband of Leo’s pants. If this was anyone else, he’d just shove his hand in and grab it, but it’s _Leo_ , and he’d already seemed so nervous before. “Can I?” he breathlessly asks instead. “I’ll…I’ll make you feel good.” Making promises like that is _so_ not his style, but if it’s Leo…

 

Leo’s hand shoots down, grabbing Izumi’s wrist with sudden strength, eyes sparking bright in the low light of his room. The music swells from his desktop speakers, urging him to go on, to find his confidence in this too, to reclaim _everything_ that’s been taken from him, but still he hesitates, finger-shaped bruises slowly forming on Izumi’s wrist. “I want...to be selfish,” he whispers finally, looking up into stormclouds. “I want Sena to make me feel good.”

 

Izumi nods faster than he ever thought he could. “You’re already a selfish king,” he mutters, tugging on his wrist as he scoots back further. “Nn, let me go. I’ll make you feel really good, but you gotta let me.”

 

The reaction should be instantaneous, but Leo’s fingers cling more tightly than he’d expected, and it takes a force of will to make them unclench. Finally he does, and to keep them that way, he reaches above his head, grabbing at his sheets. It helps that he has Izumi here, looking like he burns with all the passion Leo tries to write into his music, looking like he’d gladly rip out his beating heart if Leo asked it. Maybe he will. Maybe he’ll need to.

 

But more than anything, Izumi’s touch makes him shiver and flare with heat, hips arching off the bed as he reminds himself that this is _good_ , this is _Sena_ , this is something that’s going to be all his that no one can take from him. “Want you,” he breathes, and doesn’t close his eyes, locking them on that fey-pretty face above him.

 

Hearing that from _Tsukinaga Leo_ is a bigger stroke to his ego than Izumi ever thought possible—but he’s splayed out on the bed like an offering, and that kind of responsibility makes Izumi’s fingers tremble. Isn’t _he_ usually the one tossed flat on his back and taken care of? He’s not good at this part, at doing all the work and making someone _else_ feel good, but Leo wants him to be, and…fuck, he better learn fast.

 

Izumi curls his fingers into the waistband of Leo’s pants, easing them down over the jut of those hipbones, and a spike of envy slithers down his spine at how little and _cute_ Leo is, with that tiny waist and narrow hips. “Ou-sama’s really unfair,” he mutters. “Lift your hips up, this is all coming off.”

 

“This isn’t usually how I take my pants off,” Leo says with a smile that’s less manic than his usual, “so you’re in charge of this part too.”

 

Izumi’s hands at least feel good, unthreatening and almost reverent, touching him gently, as if Izumi has....

 

As if he’s wanted this for a long time.

 

Leo reaches up, stroking those prominent cheekbones, wriggling to help Izumi get his pants off. “Even Sena is bigger than me, no fair,” he teases gently.

 

“Shut up,” Izumi grumbles, yanking Leo’s pants and underwear off in one fell swoop and tossing them over his shoulder. “You’re lucky, I wish I…” Looking down makes him trail off, suddenly dry-mouthed and all the more flustered when he actually gets to _look_ at Leo, bare from the waist down, all soft, pale skin and slender, lean legs. It’s a relief that he’s at least half-hard, too, and Izumi swallows, licking at his lips when he can’t _help_ but reach for the fastenings of his trousers as he tries to ease Leo’s thighs apart with a knee between them. “I wish…I was this pretty,” he exhales, his eyes lidded as his thumb strokes over the jut of one hip bone. “Ou-sama, you’re so…”

 

There’s an impulse even now to press his thighs together, but Leo clenches his fist, and relaxes. It’s Sena. It’s fine. “You’re being silly,” he murmurs, and lets his hands drift up to brush through Izumi’s hair, needing something warm and alive to clutch at. “Asked you to Knights because you’re so pretty! Nnh, Sena...I’m really sensitive there.”

 

“Good,” Izumi huffs, scooting up between Leo’s thighs. That feels _way_ better than he ever thought it would, and Izumi’s breath hitches, his fingers fumbling to pull his cock out faster. “You can hold on wherever you want, it’s fine,” he breathes, licking his lips as he lurches forward, nuzzling into Leo’s neck. His hand paws down, shaking far more from excitement now than nerves, and his thumb drags down from the tip of Leo’s cock. “Ou-sama…Ou-sama, you’re…god…” His breath escapes hot against Leo’s neck, and Izumi’s teeth nip into his skin, sucking slowly “Just tell me if you hate the way I’m doing it, okay?”

 

Leo nods, sucking in a long breath, letting his thighs part more as he arranges his feet to press against the bed. He arches his back, rubbing the hardening head of his cock against Izumi’s sort of cold hand, biting his lip when the stimulations are enough to make him gasp and whine. “I don’t...hate it yet,” he gasps, nails digging into Izumi’s scalp before he stops himself. “Ha, I’m the one hurting you, Sena! Sorry!”

 

“It’s—that’s fine, I—“ Feeling the way Leo clings to him, pulls on his hair and nearly claws holes into his skin makes Izumi bolder, and he grinds down, unable to help himself. His fingers curl around both of them, his own cock dripping steadily over his fingers when he squeezes and strokes, and he sucks on the side of Leo’s neck, desperate to hear another one of those noises. “I like it, when you grab me like that,” he whispers helplessly.

 

“Hnnn!”

 

Leo’s voice spikes high and urgent, and he squirms, wrapping his legs around Izumi’s waist, then dropping one of his hands to cover Izumi’s even if he’d thought it would be frightening to touch someone else’s. “Yours is...pretty, like you,” he groans, rubbing his palm over the head, then dragging it to his mouth, licking a flat stripe up his hand. “Nn, Sena, you get so wet so fast...the taste....”

 

Izumi’s spine threatens to melt, and he thinks that’s fair. No teenage boy should be expected to endure something like _that_ without reacting, and he groans into Leo’s neck, his hips grinding down, eager and achingly hard when their cocks rub and slide into one another. “Ou-sama…that’s really fucking lewd, you know?” he gasps, his own, trembling fingers squeezing around the two of them once more before they drag up, unable to help himself, and drag against Leo’s full lower lip. Heat twists helplessly in his belly as his fingers slide against his tongue, and Izumi exhales a sound somewhere between a whimper and a groan. “D’you…d’you like the way it tastes?”

 

“Eh...not really,” Leo admits, laughing, but opens his mouth wider, closing his lips around Izumi’s fingers, dragging his tongue over the length of them. It doesn’t matter if the taste is just skin, or skin and sweat, because it’s Izumi’s skin, and that makes his whole body tense and prickle with heat. His own hips rut up insensibly, grinding against Izumi’s cock until he spills with a startled gasp, splashing hot and wet over Izumi’s belly, toes tensing and curling helplessly.

 

He twists his mouth, letting Izumi’s fingers slip out so he can suck more air in, panting, “Sena...ahhh, it’s not usually so fast, you did a good job!”

 

 _Holy shit I made him come_ is about the only thing Izumi can deliriously focus on, that and how Leo _definitely_ was just sucking on his fingers, whether he liked the taste or not. His voice breaks, low and rasping against Leo’s throat when his hands paw down to grab at Leo’s hips, not as gentle as he could be, maybe, but hopefully Leo will forgive him when he just _has_ to grind down against him, feeling slick sweat and come stick them together.

 

Izumi comes with a ragged, broken groan, and his cock twitching and pulsing with every shudder that sweeps down his spine. “Ou-sama…” He huffs out a hot breath, sagging down, his limbs finally giving out until he completely flops down atop Leo.

 

Leo breathes out a long puff of air, turning to nuzzle into Izumi’s sweat-damp, mussed hair, nowhere near model perfect now. “I liked it,” he says softly, petting down Izumi’s back. “Sena isn’t scary at all. Ahh, you really are my brave Knight...”

 

That sends another, pleasant shiver through him, and Izumi unthinkingly grabs for the tail of Leo’s hair, winding it slowly around his fingers. “Yeah. Good. You…” _You make me wanna be like that,_ he almost says, but that’s too embarrassing, even for right now, so he trails off, huffing out a hot breath. “Whoever got you so fucking shook up about this kinda thing before me needs to die,” he mutters instead. “They must’ve really sucked. I’ll shove them off the roof.”

 

Some of the tense cold creeps back into Leo’s limbs, and he turns his face, burying it into a pillow. “Just help me take it back,” he says, words muffled. “We can...forge our own way. I’ll give you my music and the rest of me too, even if I’m a useless, selfish king.”

 

“…Oi. That’s a given.” Izumi slowly forces himself to sit up, raking a hand back through his hair and mussing it further as he frowns, staring down at Leo. “Ou-sama,” he quietly says, poking at one of the hickeys he left on Leo’s neck. “I don’t think you’re useless. And I really will push someone off a roof for you, if you want me to.”

 

“Just don’t kidnap anyone else,” Leo warns, reaching up to grab Izumi’s face, eyes bright and intent. “That’s bad, Sena! Knights are the valiant champions, you know. You don’t do stuff like this when I’m around.”

 

Izumi rolls his eyes and flops sideways before they can end up stuck together, slinging an arm around Leo’s waist. “Yeah, yeah, got it. Roof-pushing is a-okay, but no kidnapping.”

 

“Knights are definitely okay with violence in appropriate situations,” Leo agrees cheerfully, resting his cheek on Izumi’s shoulder. “Sena. It was for money. Ah, it doesn’t seem as bad to tell you as I thought it would be.”

 

Izumi’s mind has to backtrack a few steps to follow the conversation. Last thing he was talking about—killing whatever asshat shook Leo up about sex in whatever way. What Leo is talking about—songs. Right. Knights’ songs. Not sex. Cool, back on track, and way _less_ freaked out. “Ah.” He frowns, thinking back to all the times Leo had complained about the music industry being so money-driven, and bites his tongue. “Yeah, well. Needs must.” He gently curls his fingers against Leo’s lower back. “I mean, I guess if you want cash, Tenshouin’s the one to go to, huh? If something happens again, though, just ask me. I’m a big deal at my agency, idiot. I’ve got money.”

 

“Sena’s got his own family, though.” Leo relaxes into the touch, still feeling like this isn’t quite something that he should be allowed to enjoy. “You should be looking after your parents, shouldn’t you?”

 

“I look after them just fine,” Izumi grumbles, his eyes lidding as his fingers stroke upward, petting along Leo’s spine when he feels Leo relax again. “But it’s my money. It’s not like I’ve got siblings, not like you.”

 

“If you keep flirting with me, you’ll get a little sister soon. Hey, Sena, if we get married, I’ll write a new wedding march. Wagner is _way_ too overplayed, you know?”

 

Izumi’s face flushes as if he’s been sunburnt, and he yanks a pillow over, shoving it into Leo’s face. “You’re the worst king,” he hurriedly snaps. “I—I didn’t even know you _liked_ guys, talking about weddings is too much!”

 

“Oi! Don’t put me in a pigeon’s hole. Is that the saying? Mm, not sure.” Leo smacks the pillow off his face, suddenly serious. “I don’t care if you’re a guy or anything else, Sena. You’re my Knight. That’s what’s important. You could be a Knight with a lady’s body, and I’d still want you to kiss me!”

 

Izumi’s mouth flaps helplessly, and he slowly sinks back down, burying his face into his hands. “Saying shit like that…” he mumbles. “You’re definitely the worst.” He swallows, dropping his hands, aware that his face is still flaming, but there’s nothing he can do about that. “I’m…glad I’m not a lady Knight in this case, though.” It’s obnoxious that being around Leo makes him want to be _honest_. Maybe it’s because Leo is so honest and forthright—or rather, that he just doesn’t have a damn filter. “A stupid king like you needs someone bigger and stronger to protect him, even if it’s just by a little bit.”

 

Leo’s eyes suddenly narrow, and he frowns, propping himself up on an elbow. “Sena, are you saying Ruka-tan couldn’t be a big strong Knight? She’s definitely cool! You should apologize to her!”

 

“She’s the size of a cocker spaniel and hella shy, she’s not gonna be a Knight,” Izumi dismisses. “Nor does she need to be. I’ll protect her, too, duh.”

 

“You’ll be a good big brother, Sena. Maybe if you have a real sibling, you’ll get over your kouhai.” Leo turns over, burying his face in the bed. “Sena, you can’t be kidnapping other guys and pushing them off roofs. You never even kidnapped me once!”

 

“That’s—maybe it’s because you’re impossible to find half the time!” Izumi growls, crawling after him and curling up against Leo’s back. He shoves his face into the back of his neck, reaching up to tug at the hairband securing his ponytail. Leo smells good, like he always does plus sex and _him_ , and Izumi’s eyes lid as he tries not to be too weird and inhale too deeply. “Yuu-kun…isn’t the same kinda thing. It’s okay if you don’t get it.”

 

Leo almost lets that go, but instead, nestles back against Izumi. “Tell me,” he urges, dropping the facade, dropping the tension. “Tell me so I understand why you’re someone else’s Sena, too.”

 

When it’s phrased like that, Izumi falters, and then compulsively grabs Leo with both arms, crushing him back against him maybe too-roughly and too-suddenly. “Dumbass,” he mutters wetly against Leo’s neck. “I’m not anyone else’s Sena. You’re…you’re the only one that wants me.”

 

Leo squeaks. His hands drop down, laying over Izumi’s, clutching them close. “I’ll get jealous if you love someone else, Sena! I don’t know if you wanted to or not, but you belong to me now, all right? Hahahaha!”

 

“Y-yeah. Yeah, all right.” If that isn’t an incentive to _not_ stalk or kidnap certain someone elses, Izumi doesn’t know what is. He exhales a long, shaky breath, and buries his face into Leo’s hair. “Nothing I can do about it. I’m your Knight.”


	2. Chapter 2

“Ooooi, Izumi-chan!”

 

Narukami Arashi is in very good spirits this morning, the kind that makes him bounce on the balls of his feet, desperate to tell someone about it, but holding it in by the barest margin. He latches on to Izumi’s arm, tugging on his sleeve. “Hey, hey, guess what? Ou-sama’s gonna be at practice today!”

 

Izumi, for his part, is drowsy and grumpy about it. It turns out that staying up until nearly four in the morning, talking quietly in the darkness of Leo’s bedroom is something he enjoys far too much. It’s worth the crick in his neck from sleeping on Leo’s decidedly unergonomic pillows, but not the desire to doze off at every opportunity. He glowers at Arashi, but doesn’t bother shaking him off his arm. “Yeah. What about it?”

 

“Eh? Ehhhh? You already knew, Izumi-chan?” Arashi cocks his head, then grabs for Izumi’s phone, deftly flipping it open. “He hasn’t texted you, how’d you know?”

 

Uh oh. Fuck. “Just seemed like about time for him to show up again.” That’s a shitty lie, but he can’t be held responsible. He’s fucking _tired._ Maybe he can divert this. “Is that what you’re so happy about? You’re bouncy, it’s annoying. Give me back my phone.”

 

“So rude! Seriously mean!” Arashi hangs on Izumi’s shoulder so much it slightly tugs his blazer down. “Izumi-chan, if you’ve...”

 

He trails off, staring at the newly-revealed skin on Izumi’s neck, plucked brows rising to astronomical levels. “H-h-hickey!!”

 

 _Fuck, fuck, fuck._ This is what he gets for not double-checking after he and Leo had cuddled up and made out…again. Even though he’d put makeup over it, it clearly isn’t good enough for Arashi’s sharp eyes, and remembering that Leo has several hickeys to match makes Izumi’s heart start to thud faster. Leo, unlike himself, doesn’t give a fuck. Leo is going to show up to practice, strip to practice clothes, and have a veritable ring of little bites around his neck which should be easily concealed by his usual hoodie, but… “The hell are you looking at,” he snaps instead, using Arashi’s momentary distraction to snatch his phone away and hike his blazer back up. “You never seen a hickey before? You’ve left them yourself before, ugh.”

 

“But I didn’t leave this one, so it’s waaaaaaay more interesting!” Arashi’s grip is as strong as it ever has been, and he reaches out, poking the little dark spot on Izumi’s seriously pale neck. “Who? Izumi-chan, who? Who is it? Who left those, eh? Who was it, who’s been chewing on you?”

 

“None of your business,” Izumi snarls, trying to swat Arashi’s hands away to no avail. Arashi is _strong_ , and it’s really unfair. “What, are you jealous? Ow, don’t poke it, it fucking hurts.”

 

“You’ve got awful timing,” Arashi says fretfully, poking even harder. “Seriously, how stupid! Who is it? Who is it, Izumi-chan? Hey, don’t make me follow you around and scout it out, Onee-chan needs to know~!”

 

“Why’ve I got awful timing?” Izumi hisses, slapping Arashi’s hand away far less nicely this time. “It’s none of your business!” _Divert, divert!_ “D’you want me to ask you a million questions about why you’re in a good mood, shitty okama? It’s because of another dumb crush of yours, I bet.”

 

“Nope!” Arashi laughs, clapping his hands. “I’ve got a boy~friend. Who’d you hook up with, Izumi-chan? You’ve gotta tell me, I’ll _die_ if I don’t find out!”

 

Izumi scowls, even as he stares back at Arashi skeptically. “Who the fuck would _date_ you?”

 

“Someone way cuter than Izumi-chan!” Arashi says, pouting now. “You don’t get to know who it is if you aren’t gonna share.”

 

“That’s cool.” Izumi straightens his blazer again, and flips open his phone, checking his neck again in his beauty app with a frown. Fuck, he really needs to touch that up. “I don’t wanna know that badly.”

 

“No fair!!”

 

Arashi narrows his eyes, deliberately messing up Izumi’s hair before he can take a photo. “Is it Ou-sama?”

 

“Fuck you,” Izumi spits out on reflex, and whether it’s directed towards the hair-mussing or the question remains anyone’s guess. He glares into his phone, pulling it closer to his face to fix his hair now, even as his pulse quickens. _Don’t react, don’t react._ “I bet you’re doing that kid with the weird eyes. What’s his name.”

 

Arashi take a step back, so fast he winds up sitting on a planter. “Whoa. It _is?_ Izumi-chan, are you serious? I guessed him because you get weird if I guess Makoto-chan, but I was _right?_ ”

 

There’s no hiding from Narukami Arashi. Izumi should’ve known that by now. Survival mode kicks in, with the idea of anyone else finding out about this playing a terrifying symphony in his head, and he stops thinking. He grits his teeth, snaps his phone shut, and abruptly whirls on him, directly in his personal space with just one, sharp stride. “If you say another fucking word about it,” he lowly threatens, “I’ll make you wish you were dead.”

 

Arashi blinks slowly, entirely unruffled, let alone frightened. “Oh...sure,” he offers, leaning back on his hands. “Wait, hold on. Who tops?”

 

The question throws Izumi for such a loop that he visibly fumbles, and he unthinkingly sputters out, “Me, _obviously._ ”

 

Arashi’s laugh is sudden and loud in the quiet, and Arashi claps his hand over his mouth, trying to stifle it. “Sorry, sorry! I didn’t--are you serious? Like, you know I’m talking about who puts it in, right?”

 

“I’m not a fucking idiot, I’ve done it before.” Izumi’s scowl deepens, and he nearly throws his phone in Arashi’s face. “What’s so funny? Oi!”

 

“With _who_ have you done that before?” Arashi asks, trying unsuccessfully to stop laughing, chest quivering with the effort. “You sure as hell never did with me--or even acted like you _wanted_ to. What was it you said, the first time? ‘Do I _look_ like someone that--’”

 

“Shut up!” Izumi’s face flames, and he shoves both of his hands over Arashi’s mouth, hoping that will shut him up when he knows hitting him will just fuel the damned fire. “I…I haven’t _done it_ before, not like that, but I mean I’ve had sex before, you know that, asshole. Ugh, why does it matter, you’re so fucking weird!”

 

Arashi grabs Izumi’s hands, pulling them down, but instead of doing anything cruel, he just squeezes, trying to hold Izumi’s eyes. “Ne, Izumi-chan...you’d better just be scared, you know? Because if you’re not happy about being with Ou-sama, you’ve gotta get happy soon, he deserves whatever smile you’ve got to offer.”

 

“You’re a dumbass.” Izumi’s hands tremble before he sucks in a calming breath, squeezing his eyes shut when Arashi tries to stare at him. “…I don’t want anyone to hurt him again,” he mutters. “I’m not scared, that’d be fucking dumb. I…I just want to…really not fuck this up.” Admitting that makes his shoulders sag. Izumi’s mouth twists, and he says what someone can only _really_ say to their best friend: “I’m gonna be a shitty boyfriend and a shittier top.”

 

“Aw,” Arashi says with a sigh, patting Izumi on the cheek. “Yeah.”

 

“ _Oi._ He said I was good last night, fuck you.” Neglecting to mention specifics is helpful.

 

Arashi nods sympathetically, then tugs Izumi down next to him. “He okay? I know he was _crazy_ energized today, his phone call was all over the place.”

 

“When aren’t his phone calls like that?” Izumi grouses, plopping down next to him. “He’s good. Doing better, at any rate. He wrote a bunch of new music, that’s why we’re having practice today.” He grimaces. “Can you… _not_ comment on his hickeys when he shows up? He’s an idiot, he’s not gonna try and cover them up.”

 

“Oh my god...how many did you leave?” Arashi smacks Izumi’s shoulder gently. “You’re gonna get him in trouble with his family, you know? What do they think is going on, that he’s...what, dating a girl?”

 

“I didn’t leave that many! And I tried to get him to let me put makeup on them, but he wasn’t having it.” Izumi heaves a sigh. “He’s not stupid with his family, though. He’s probably gonna tell them he’s dating a girl and that’ll be the end of it.”

 

“Ooh, yeah, a reasonable and thoughtful lie that doesn’t make anything worse for anybody, that _totally_ sounds like the Ou-sama we’re both talking about.” Arashi lowers his voice, leaning in. “So, what was it like? How is he?”

 

“He’s _different_ around his family. I don’t expect you to get it, you don’t know him like I do.” Izumi hesitates, wondering if this is something too private or too sacred because it’s _Leo_ , but at the same time…goddammit, he really wants to gloat. He groans, and buries his face into his hands. “Ou-sama…is _so cute._ ”

 

Arashi lets out a muffled squeal behind his hands, eyes wide and adoring. “Oh no...you guys are so cute already, my poor maiden heart is going to break! Did you, like, pop his cherry?”

 

“Don’t be fucking obnoxious or I’ll kill you,” Izumi threatens, his elbow digging half-heartedly into Arashi’s side. “I…no, I didn’t. But I made it a hell of a lot better than his first time, I think. He was all nervous about it, it made me wanna punch someone.”

 

Arashi’s face clouds into sudden, urgent anger. “Who the hell messed with him? We can mess them up. You know I’m here for that. Ah, in a slightly more ladylike way, of course.”

 

Izumi hesitates, then shrugs, staring down at his hands. “I dunno for sure,” he admits. “He didn’t tell me. I mean, I’ve got my suspicions, but…ugh, if I tell you what I think, you can’t go spreading it around.”

 

Arashi bites his lip, tastes lip balm, and pulls another little pot out of his pocket, reapplying. “Not that many people it could have been, you know? I had my suspicions back then, but...yeah. At least you’re taking care of him now.”

 

At least he and Arashi on the same page without having to _say_ the gross things that he’s thinking. “Yeah,” Izumi says instead. “I’m not gonna let anything else bad happen to him. So, uh.” He knocks his knee against Arashi’s. “ _You_ mentioned something about a boyfriend.”

 

Arashi’s face flushes suddenly, and he waves a hand merrily. “Just to get you to open up, of course.” He pauses, then admits immediately, “Okay, it’s Mika-chan, but I’m gonna pretend that you guessed so I don’t have to feel guilty for telling you when I want to so _bad_.”

 

“Uwa, I never would have known,” Izumi deadpans, even though his eyebrows slowly raise. “So it _is_ the weird one with the weird eyes. Huh. Damn, Naru-kun, did you get Itsuki’s permission?”

 

“Uh, no, Mika-chan isn’t a possession, and I’d like to see Itsuki try to tell me otherwise?” Arashi shrugs. “He says they’re not a thing, so they’re not a thing. Me and him are a thing. And oh my god, he’s _sooooo_ cute, he wants to be my little girlfriend, you know?”

 

“Gross,” Izumi bluntly replies, rolling his eyes, though there’s no real bite behind the response. “If you want a girlfriend, shouldn’t you date a girl?”

 

“I want a girlfriend with a dick.” Arashi raises an eyebrow. “I want a guy, who’s weird and pretty and not afraid of being weird and pretty. What’s wrong with that? And he doesn’t care if...”

 

He trails off, staring out at the sky. Izumi had never quite understood, and that’s probably why _they’re_ not dating. “I just like him.”

 

“Yeah, yeah, more for you, then.” The dismissal sounds congratulatory, in its own way. Izumi claps him on the shoulder. “I’m not going on double dates with you, before you ask.”

 

“Such a spoil sport, Izumi-chan!” Arashi laughs, and pulls out his makeup compact, starting to fiddle with his hair in the small mirror. “Ugh, will he love me if my hair looks like this? I wouldn’t.”

 

“Hand over your concealer, I forgot to bring mine.” It’s a shade or two too dark, but it’ll have to do. Izumi sighs as he flips his phone open again, staring into the camera and fiddling with his own hair. “I doubt the weird-eyed kid cares about your hair. He’s probably starstruck that you’re dating someone like him. Man, I’ve never even tried to bully him, but if I just _look_ at him, he bursts into tears. What’s up with that?”

 

“If you bully Mika-chan,” Arashi says sweetly, “I’ll punch you. Like one of my real punches. You’ll die, Izumi-chan, and I won’t even wear my good suit to your funeral.”

 

“I _just_ said I’ve never even tried to, chill out,” Izumi growls, jabbing his elbow into Arashi’s hip. “Concealer, now. Ugh, you’re lucky, he’s in your class and everything.”

 

Arashi pulls out his concealer, and a finishing powder to go with it. “This should even out your skin tone. Ugh, you’re lucky you’re pink-toned, I’m so yellow today, gross. And yeah, would you have deliberately flunked out of some stuff if you’d known Ou-sama was gonna be in 3-B now?”

 

“Yep.” It’s said without hesitation. Izumi deftly opens up the tube of concealer one-handedly and applies it while still balancing his phone in the other at the perfect angle to see what he’s doing. “I mean, my parents would’ve flipped, but…worth it. 3-A’s gonna suck hard without Ou-sama being there.”

 

“I’d rather die than be in that class,” Arashi says frankly. “B-classes are way more fun. No one cares if me and Mika-chan girl-talk in the back of the class all the time, you know? And 3-A is full of weird people. Like the Student Council President. Hey, do you think that’s why Ou-sama transfered classes?”

 

Izumi’s lips purse. He takes a moment to better examine his neck and the sole hickey that he’s trying to hide before giving up and brushing setting powder over it. “Yeah. I’m almost 100% certain that’s why, but again, he won’t talk about it.”

 

Leo will talk about it, eventually--Izumi can't count on it, but instinct still tells him as much.

 


	3. Chapter 3

Focusing during photoshoots has never been harder than when a shock of orange hair pops up at inopportune times.

 

It would be a lie to say Izumi didn’t realize the close proximity of this shoot’s location to Leo’s neighborhood—only a train stop away, actually. Specifically, it’s the older side of town, full of tiny, family owned restaurants and stores. It’s cute though boring, but to be fair, Izumi is rarely excited about anything on-location. The only draw to this is the idea of _maybe_ stopping by Leo’s afterwards, or something like that.

 

That’s not necessary if he’s already _around._

 

“Ah, Sena-kun—“

 

The shoot isn’t even half-way over, and Izumi walks off with the flash of a camera, prompting a startled noise from the photographer and his on-site agent alike. “Sena-kun, where are you—“

 

“I have to go check on something!” It’s more of an explanation that he usually gives—once, he was so _sure_ Makoto was on the beach that they were being photographed on, but that had turned out to be false; his makeup artist hadn’t liked him crying off everything, but who cares—and Izumi walks for two more strides before darting off, geta be damned. What’s good balance for if he’s not going to put it to use?

 

The question is, where did Leo _go?_ The park is a solid guess, and nearby besides, and Izumi straightens his clothes so it isn’t falling off his shoulders like wardrobe had set it, for public decency’s sake, before trotting off in that direction. At least it’s mostly empty, and picking out ginger hair and too-much clothing even on a cooler day is easy enough. “Ou-sama! Ou-samaaa, oi, pay attention when I call you!”

 

Orange hair quivers, then disappears, its owner plummeting to the ground. White earbuds protrude from Leo’s ears, eyes completely absorbed, scribbling furiously in a notebook before the inspiration leaves him. It’s not the same as it had been before--nothing comes out easily these days, it’s all hard work and grinding, grinding, grinding out the notes until they fit together in a string, none of the effortless composition of the past.

 

Except sometimes, when his Knights want his compositions, and their shining faces set that sparkle off in his brain again.

 

Distractions don’t help, so Leo hunkers down in his coat’s collar, feeling his hands shivering in the warm spring air as he scrawls another painstaking line.

 

“Oi. _Oi_ , Ou-sama, you’re the _worst._ ”

 

Izumi stomps his way over, leaning over Leo from behind, scowling with his hands on his hips. He waits for a moment before he reaches down, tugging one of earbuds out of Leo’s ear, leaving it to dangle instead. “Ou-sa _ma_ ,” he says again, stressing every syllable. “You can’t show up at my photoshoots and run away and expect me not to follow.”

 

Leo blinks, trying to figure out why his music is suddenly playing in only one ear, before he lets out a squeak in surprise at the sight of Izumi. He sits back, then smiles, then lets his smile dial up to a thousand watts, hand scribbling faster than ever down the page. “Sena! Perfect, don’t move! I’m always more inspired when you’re around!”

 

Izumi heaves a long-suffering sigh even as he straightens up and obliges, arms folded across his chest. He tries not to shiver, but fuck cool weather and thin clothes that are definitely meant for pictures, not wearing. At least this shoot called for his entire chest to be wrapped (for some reason) and his damned nipples aren’t _able_ to cut glass underneath their binding, ugh. “Yeah, yeah, make it quick, though. This better not be a 10-hour inspiration.”

 

Leo doesn’t even bother responding to that. How can he, when the idea of inspiration having something of a time limit is so silly it’s as if Izumi had asked how many drops of rain will fall between now and tomorrow in all of Japan. Time doesn’t _matter_ , not next to the fragile, elusive peace of composition, stealing through his mind.

 

He scrawls, then looks up, and grabs Izumi’s hand. Yes, yes, this is what he’s missing! The notes scribble out over Izumi’s pale skin, and he laughs, delighted at how much _easier_ it is this way. “Sena, Sena, this is perfect! Take off your shirt, I have more to write!”

 

“What? No!” Izumi protests, tugging on his arm, though not quite removing it from Leo’s clutches. Letting Leo write on his arm is one thing, but—“Ou-sama, you idiot, we’re in public. Are you even looking at me? Oi—“

 

Izumi exhales another, exasperated sigh when it’s apparent that _no,_ Leo is not paying attention to him, and he grumbles, shrugging down the sleeve of his shirt again to at least let Leo at his shoulder and the upper part of his chest. “If I get in trouble at my photoshoot, it’s your fault.”

 

Leo hums to himself, pens skating across pale skin, fingers leading the way to make sure the way is soft and supple, and his mind can’t help but remark on the way Izumi’s skin prickles under his marker. Finally, the song is finished, and Leo sets the pens down with a sigh of relief, hands dropping to fiddle with his huge, confusing buttons. “How do I get this off? You’re shivering, you’re cold! What kind of king wouldn’t protect you?”

 

Now that he’s covered in music notes and lyrics, it’s much less a matter of being cold, considering how he now feels a little flushed. “Don’t be stupid, you’ll be cold if you don’t keep your coat on,” Izumi scolds, and idly pulls out his phone from his jacket’s inner pocket. He flips the camera around, examining his new decorations, and idly takes a couple of selfies. Who knows if he’ll mess up the writing or have to wipe it off, so he as might as well have evidence. It’s not like he _likes_ it or anything. “Did you seriously come out here just to work on your music? You’re gonna catch a cold or something. It’s one thing if I’m out here just working on a shoot; you always stay out too long and then you’re a snotty mess.”

 

“Nonsense! I’m burning from the inside, you know!” Leo lurches up, wrapping his arms around Izumi’s neck, beaming. “If I can’t give you my coat, I’ll _be_ your coat. Better yet, take me out for coffee. Or tea! And sweets! I want to bring something home for Ruka-tan...”

 

“You’re gonna get fat,” Izumi grouses, bending forward underneath the weight of Leo on his neck. He resists for a heartbeat, but his eyes flick about, noting exactly how empty the park _is_ , and his hands curl around Leo’s waist in sort order. He _is_ awfully warm, like a weird, concentrated furnace. “There’s a nice cafe I’ve been wanting to bring you to, I guess…”

 

“Sena-kuuun! Sena-kun, where did you run off to?”

 

The sound of his manager calling him makes Izumi curse. He grabs Leo by the arm, hauling him behind a tree and flattening him against it as he hides there as well, covering Leo’s mouth with his hand just to make _sure_ he doesn’t make a sound. Maybe it’s not terribly professional to run off like this, but once in awhile can’t hurt, right?

 

Leo mumbles something, looking surprised to find his words muffled by Izumi’s hand. His ears prick up, and he looks around, eyes darting towards the sound of Izumi’s name. Ridiculous. Izumi shouldn’t need to _hide_ from anything. He’s serving his King, after all, and that should take priority over everything else.

 

But Izumi is tense, and Leo doesn’t want to add to that, not when he’s such a lovely canvas, so he relaxes, sticking his cold hands under Izumi’s shirt to press against his belly.

 

Izumi yelps before he can stop himself, nearly jerking back from the touch. “ _Why?_ ” he hisses through his teeth, glowering down at Leo, grabbing for one of his hands to try and push it away.

 

“Seeena-kun, we’re in the middle of a shoot! Makoto-kun isn’t here, we already had this conversation!”

 

Izumi’s lips purse. _Don’t remind me_ the irrational part of his mind complains, and he presses closer to Leo to crush the thought, burying his face down into Leo’s hair, breathing out a hot, frustrated exhale. Pressing this close definitely takes the chill out of the air, and doing this sort of in public, sort of where his manager could find them _does things_ to his pulse, making it quicken.

 

“Sena,” Leo breathes, nestling close, letting his fingers walk around to Izumi’s back. “Want me to get rid of them?” The glint in his eyes gives little doubt that he is capable of it, or of almost anything at this moment.

 

That seems ill-advised. Good sense tells him to firmly refuse, but Izumi’s not exactly known for being practical, and now isn’t a good time to start. “Fuck it, go for it,” he mutters, his mind already starting to shut off when Leo keeps _touching_ him and saying his name like that. What’s the worst that could happen?

 

With that, Leo is _off_ , dashing through the park at blinding speed, running headfirst for the person calling Izumi’s name, then charging past them. “Sena! Izumi Sena!” he yells, feigning anger. “Listen to the rest of the message--you’re headed to the wrong hospital, your father is at the _other_ one! Come back!”

 

He dashes as swiftly as his legs can carry him, then circles back around, sneaking up on Izumi’s tree again with a grin. “Doubt they’ll come back. Come on, let’s have a date! I want sweets, Sena.”

 

Izumi blinks a few times, a mix impressed and exasperated. Only Leo would be that _ridiculous_ , and he’s definitely going to get a few weird, concerned phone calls later, from manager and parents alike, but it’s worth it, for now. “I already told you, you’re gonna get fat,” he grumbles, a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips, and he grabs for Leo’s arm, hauling him over. His heart thuds in his chest when he finds himself helpless to do anything but push Leo against the tree again— _too much, too bold, too pushy, he’ll freak out!_ his mind screams, because isn’t that what Yuu-kun has done every single time, hadn’t Arashi laughed at him the one time he’d thought it might be cool?—but Leo is flushed and windswept and leaning down to kiss him seems like a good plan.

 

Leo leans up, a little smile playing on his mouth as he loops his arms around Izumi’s neck, pulling him down to meet his lips. Izumi is his music right now, chords swelling in his head, and what else could he desire but his own wildest dreams? “Sena,” he murmurs, letting his fingers ghost across Izumi’s neck, blunt nails rasping across the skin. “You always come when I want you, don’t you?”

 

A shudder spikes down Izumi’s spine when his thoughts swiftly try to turn that statement on its head into something dirtier. _Stoooop_ , he whines at his hormones, and briefly stuffs his face into Leo’s neck, getting a noseful of his ponytail. “That’s a given,” he mumbles, nosing up to Leo’s ear. His own hands tentatively curl around Leo’s hips, then slink lower, cupping his ass. “If you want sweets, I’ll buy them for you, but only if we can go to your house.”

 

“Eh? There aren’t any sweets for sale at my house, Sena,” Leo says, then can’t hold back a laugh. “Wahaha! Your hands are so cold. I love it! Come on, take me out, then we can go to my house.”

 

“Listen to the thread of conversation properly for once,” Izumi growls, snapping at Leo’s earlobe before pulling away in a huff. “Everyone’s gonna recognize us if I take you out,” he complains, fully knowing he’s going to do it anyway. “Let me borrow a mask.” Being a part of Knights dictates that they carry such things on their person at all times, but running away from a shoot forfeits the luxury of having his bag with him.

 

Leo pulls a mask from his pocket, tucking the strings over Izumi’s ears, then gently booping his nose through the paper of the mask. Then he pulls out a hat, flopping the long ears down over his bright hair. “If you can’t see my hair, we just look like a regular couple out for a date, right?”

 

Izumi struggles not to stare for too long, and settles for yanking on the ears of Leo’s hat a bit more, huffing out a breath. “You look like a girl,” he says instead of the other thing that he’s thinking, which is _you’re fucking cute._ He grabs for Leo’s hand (so he can’t run off again, obviously) and twines their fingers together, feeling the heat on his face try to burn through his mask. “Ou-sama, have you ever been out on a date before?”

 

“Sure! I took Ruka-tan to the skating rink last week. She was soooo cute, Sena.” Leo snuggles up to Izumi’s side as they walk, greedily leeching off his body heat.

 

“Not with your sister, dumbass. A _date-_ date.” Other than a few assumptions, Izumi is realizing he knows relatively little about Leo’s relationship experience in general. He keeps an eye briefly on the scattered people around them as they leave the park, making sure they aren’t getting any weird glances, and fortunately, they’re as ignored as any other couple on the street. “Have you ever had a girlfriend?”

 

 _Girls aren’t music_ is on the tip of Leo’s tongue, but Izumi isn’t music either, except at the moment, so Leo pauses, then shakes his head. “We’re not supposed to. And I might not care about the rules, but there’s never been a particular girl that’s inspired my wildest dreams. What about you?”

 

 _Does Naru-kun count?_ Izumi wants to ask snidely, but he knows it doesn’t. “There was a girl in my ballet class in middle school that would tell everyone we were dating, but we weren’t. That’s about as close as I’ve gotten.” Izumi hesitates, then says with a shrug, “I don’t like girls like that.”

 

“Unfortunate,” Leo says with a sigh. “I dislike the blind leading the blind. I suppose we’ll just have to stumble our way through a date. Are we supposed to eat the sweets? Neither of us know! It’s fine, I brought markers.”

 

“I’ve been on dates before,” Izumi protests, tightening his hold upon Leo at the threat of markers. “I’ve just never had a girlfriend, get it right. _You_ can eat the sweets all you want, I’m not hungry.” A lie, and today is probably not the day to try and conquer chocolate cravings, but he _should_.

 

The sweets cafe is a little hole in the wall with limited enough seating that most of it is outside, considering the shop itself is basically nothing but displays of chocolate. Izumi heaves a little sigh and fishes out his wallet. How many times has Arashi bankrupted him here, ugh. “Does Ruka-chan still like those white chocolate cream things I got her last time?”

 

“The white chocolate ones are her favorite,” Leo says cheerfully, thunking his head against Izumi’s shoulder. “You can get her a bunch more, I’m sure she’ll eat them all up. And she never gains weight! Or I’ll kill anyone who says she did, at least, so it’s the same thing. Ahh, Sena, did you see what she wore yesterday? The cutest, right?”

 

“Mika-chan, order anything you want, it’s my tre~eat!” Arashi sing-songs, circling around the other corner, arm linked with that of one shuffling, shy Kagehira Mika. “This place is _super_ tasty, they’ve got such nice pastries.”

 

“It looks expensive,” Mika warily says, his voice barely above a whisper. His arm is less linked with Arashi’s and more firmly attached in the clinging sense. “Are you sure about this, Naru-chan?”

 

There’s no mistaking that voice, and Izumi pointedly refuses to acknowledge it. Maybe if he doesn’t look back, Arashi won’t recognize him. Izumi _is_ curious about Arashi’s date, but curiosity killed the cat and all that. “Yeah, yeah, she’s the cutest,” he mutters, hiking his mask up a bit more, just to make _sure_. “What about you? Don’t go for anything milk chocolate, that’s weak. Ugh, you never gain weight either, you’re so lucky.”

 

“My body is dragged along by my mind, and my mind never stops,” Leo agrees, seeming to vibrate under the skin, hair twitching in its ponytail. “Sena, look! It’s Naru! And some mystery stranger! Oi, who’s invading my Knights’ privacy?”

 

Arashi starts suddenly at the sound, then his face lights up, and he squeezes Mika’s hand to presciently keep him from running. “Aha, what a lovely coincidence! Izumi-chan, Ou-sama, fancy seeing you here!”

 

Mika slinks behind Arashi all the more, immediately on edge the second it’s clear he’s the odd one out, and amongst _Knights_ , nonetheless.

 

Izumi, for his part, rolls his eyes skyward. _Dammit._ “Get out, this is my spot,” Izumi flatly ‘greets’, tightening his hold on Leo’s hand before he can bolt over to investigate.

 

Arashi pouts, stepping easily forward to cover Mika’s hesitation. “Super rude, I’m the one who took _you_ here in the first place.”

 

“Naru, nice to see you!” Leo waves, then turns, burying his face in Izumi’s neck. “We’re on a date, though. So we won’t sit with you.”

 

“Like hell you did, I took _you_ here first,” Izumi insists, though the sharpness of his voice is tempered when Leo nuzzles up to him like that so blatantly. He flushes hot enough that it’s visible even up to his ears, and he scowls behind his mask as he turns away, pulling Leo with him with an arm slung around him. “Whatever. Pick out whatever you want, Ou-sama.”

 

“I want a loaf of bread!”

 

“Don’t be stupid, we’re here for sweets. Ugh. I mean, if you want a loaf of bread, you can take it home, but get something chocolate at least.”

 

Two of the scariest people in school—as far as Mika is concerned—being in the nearby vicinity makes it pretty easy to just shut down and _hide_. He grips at the back of Arashi’s coat, face partially buried into his shoulder.

 

Arashi frowns down, trying to decide what to do. If he stays, won’t that make Mika uncomfortable, which is kind of the opposite of the point of the date? But if they leave, Mika is _never_ going to get over this nervousness--and around two of his best friends, too. He thinks, squeezing Mika’s hand, and asks, “Do you want to eat inside, or outside, Mika-chan?” Whatever he chooses, he’s certain Izumi will choose the other.

 

“Outside,” is Mika’s swift response, intent on having an escape plan, _just in case._

 

 _Why are you dating a loony, nervous bird?_ Izumi wants to jab at Arashi, but he’s not here to ruin Arashi’s date, even if he’s _super_ weird. “Ou-sama, go steal that table in the corner before someone else takes it,” he says instead, dislodging Leo with a gentle push. “I’ll surprise you with something.” That’s cute, right? Fuck, it better be.

 

“Sena, that’s so romantic! Wahaha, I’m charmed--so cute! I’m going to go write you a song!” Leo slips swiftly into the cafe, immediately sliding into the seat Izumi had pointed out, scooting it around to be backwards, and pulling out a notebook to start composing.

 

“Have a seat, Mika-chan,” Arashi urges, pulling a chair out from an outdoor table. “I’ll get you something nice.”

 

Mika nods firmly, and attaches himself to the seat so quickly that it almost seems like it’s magnetized, partially hidden behind his high scarf.

 

Izumi heaves a sigh into his mask, and opens up the door to the cafe, propping it open one-handedly for Arashi to follow him. “So,” he begins, now that they’ve been temporarily separated from their respective dates. “I know you were on the agency shoot schedule as well.”

 

“Hmm, yep.” Arashi beams, eyes flicking towards the outside seating area, making sure no one is attempting to talk to Mika without him there. It’s hard enough to get him to go out together in public without gravitating towards garbage dumps and abandoned playgrounds, let alone if people bother him. “But it was _cold_ , and they let me know they were only gonna be able to squeeze me in at the end if anything, so I gave it a skip. Mika-chan had a free day.”

 

“Lucky.” Izumi pauses. “I skipped out in the middle of a shoot because Ou-sama ran by, so if you get called, you don’t know shit about where I am.”

 

Arashi laughs behind his hand. “I always turn my ringer off when I’m with Mika-chan anyway,” he assures Izumi. “The sound made him fall off a chair once.”

 

Izumi looks away from examining (and lusting after) various chocolate cakes to squint at Arashi. “What the hell? Why is he—no, I don’t wanna know.” Underneath his breath, he adds, “Must be a hell of a lay to put up with that.” Not that he’s fishing for details or anything.

 

“Rude, Izumi-chan.” Arashi flicks a sly glance outside again, then lowers his voice so they won’t even be heard by the other people in line. “No gag reflex, though. Just saying.”

 

Izumi nearly trips where he stands. “The fuck? _That_ kid?” He cranes his neck to get another look at Mika, hardly believing it. He tugs his mask down, letting it hook underneath his chin. “Is that why you’re treating him to sweets this nice? You never bought _me_ anything when we used to, you know. You made _me_ still buy everything.”

 

“Izumi-chan has his own money,” Arashi points out, picking up a dark chocolate ganache cake that he knows is Izumi’s favorite, then another for Mika. “It’s cute how you treat Ou-sama. I’m surprised he’s letting you, but it’s cute.”

 

“Shut up.” The mask goes back up, because he’s not interested in Arashi judging him for blushing, and Izumi snatches up the last box of white chocolate cream bites for Ruka, and a cake with chocolate and raspberry for Leo. He wavers, hesitating, and adds one of those dark chocolate cakes to his tray, too. Maybe he’ll just have a bite and Leo can have the rest, that’s the plan. “He begged for me to take him out. Maybe inspiration makes him crave sweets, who the fuck knows.”

 

“Does he have no gag reflex too?” Arashi teases, grabbing a croque monsieur and adding it to his tray, because he’d had a _long_ run earlier. “You weren’t exactly like this on our dates, you know.”

 

“Yeah, well, we weren’t _dating_ -dating,” Izumi insistently points out. _Don’t grab the cheesecake, don’t grab the cheesecake, don’t grab the—_ he moodily adds a chocolate swirl cheesecake slice, because he has lost control of his life. “Anyway, don’t talk about Ou-sama like that, or I’ll punch you.”

 

“Yes, that’s very scary,” Arashi says patiently, sliding his tray onto the cashier’s counter. Little ballerina punches don’t hold too much fear for him. “You must be getting a hell of a workout with him somehow, or are you planning to throw that up later?”

 

“That’s the one. Don’t tell my manager.” Arashi won’t, but it’s reflexive to warn him when being betrayed by other models at their agency _has_ happened in the past. He fishes out his wallet, shrugging. “We haven’t really done anything,” he mutters. “I don’t…ugh, don’t look at me like that, forget it, you laughed last time.” He doesn’t want to talk about this when he’s buying cake.

 

Arashi raises his eyebrows. “You wanna text me later about it? I know Ou-sama is kinda hard to understand, I just thought...you know, if anyone would, it’d be you, I guess. Or Tsukasa-chan, maybe?”

 

“It’s not a matter of not understanding anything.” _Maybe it’s that I understand too much, and I keep thinking about it._

 

“Sir, your total is—“

 

“It’s together,” Izumi interrupts, and the cashier adds up his tray as well. He leans around Arashi to pay before he can, and pockets his change with a shrug. “Congrats on the hot date. Text me later, asshole.”

 

Arashi stares, watching Izumi go and putting his wallet away in mild confusion. _Keep him, Ou-sama,_ he thinks, as the cashier bundles up his items. _You make him a better version of himself._

 

Leo looks up as soon as Izumi returns to the table, face breaking out in a surprisingly sweet, un-manic smile. “Sena! What’d you get? I love surprises, I love you!”

 

“Don’t say that so loudly,” Izumi exasperatedly says, grateful that he can still hide behind his mask for a moment longer when his traitor mouth wants to smile. _Gross, ugh, gross, get it together!_ He slides down into the chair across from Leo, setting the tray of his spoils down. “The white chocolate’s for Ruka, and this cake’s for you, I thought you might like something fruitier.” He tugs his mask off, pocketing it. “The other two we’re gonna split, and by that, I mean you’re going to eat most of it so I don’t.”

 

“Is it a race?” Leo asks, suspicious as he pulls out a spoon, digging into the fruit tart, carefully setting Ruka’s cake to the side. The food bulges out one side of his cheek as he chews, and he lets out a pleased little squeal, shivering up to his head. “Huuaaahhh! Sena, you’ve got the best taste--you’ve got to taste, open up, say aaah!”

 

There’s already a spoonful on his spoon, and he jams it at Izumi’s face without waiting for a response. “An order from your king!”

 

“No way, I’m on a—“ Izumi leans back, scowling, but Leo isn’t budging and it’s impossible to turn down that intense green stare…coupled with a phrase that Leo _knows_ he won’t refuse. What an asshole. “You’re the worst,” he mutters, leaning forward to take a bite off the spoon. He chews and swallows, heaving a sigh. “Yeah, you’re right, it’s good,” he begrudgingly says, grabbing for his phone to take a picture of the remaining cakes (and Leo, by proxy). “Look cute, it’s for Twitter.”

 

Leo immediately flashes a double peace sign, leaning forward on his elbows in front of the cakes. “What’s twitter?”

 

 _So cute_ , Izumi helplessly thinks, snapping the picture and exhaling a slow breath through his nose. Fuck him, he’s ruined. “Do you live under a rock, you stupid king?” He flips the phone around, letting Leo see the tweet he just posted. “This is Knights’ official account, I’ve been running it since you left. Still do now, because why not, I guess. Our fans missed you, this’ll make them happy.”

 

“Whoaa--things are popping up all over!” Leo watches, entranced, as notifications  burst onto the screen one after the other, then by the dozens. “Do you know all these people, Sena?”

 

Izumi scoffs, pulling his phone back. “Nope. It’s just all those girls that come to our concerts and stuff. Hehh, they think you’re real cute, Ou-sama.” He picks up his own spoon, and wavers for a moment longer before scooping up a spoonful of chocolate cake first. The first bite makes him feel almost light-headed, and Izumi subtly tugs the cake closer to his side of the table. “No wonder you left me in charge, you don’t know anything.”

 

“What does running a unit have to do with being a genius?” Leo demands, scooping cake into his mouth as his toes wriggle in his boots. “Whoever made this cake is a genius, too. Not as much as me! But music is different from cakes.”

 

“Yeah, you can’t eat music,” Izumi deadpans, tapping his way back to his personal account and scrolls half-heartedly through his notifications as he shoves another spoonful of chocolate into his mouth. Arashi posting his gross selfies with his weird boyfriend simultaneously makes his eyes roll and a weird stab of jealousy twist in his gut. It’s not like Arashi is coming out and _saying_ Mika is his boyfriend, but he’s got it down to a science, being that casual about even going out with friends. “I agreed to be in Knights because it was supposed to be _easy_ , you know. False fucking advertising.”

 

Leo’s eyes twinkle. “The false advertising has a point, Sena. Isn’t it more fun to crush our enemies if they think we’re only here to be beautiful and get out of unit practice?” The seriousness of the statement is somewhat undercut by the glob of white frosting clinging to the corner of his lip.

 

Izumi sighs and reaches over, thumbing away the frosting from Leo’s mouth. “I _guess._ But that’d hold a lot more weight if you’d show up and book Lives and shit again. Not that I _want_ to work,” he quickly adds. “But I’m just saying. Your music’s good.”

 

Leo grins, and licks his spoon as if Izumi has played right into his hand. “All right, Sena. If you want me to so badly, I’ll write you a new song--and build a Live around that song.”

 

“Wh—oi, I didn’t say to do that!” This is, of course, his own fault. Izumi glowers and shoves more cake into his mouth, realizing belatedly that _most_ of the slice is already gone, and no one is to blame but himself. Dammit. “Kasa-kun’s gonna be salty if you do that, I don’t wanna hear him bitch and moan.”

 

Leo stares at Izumi for a moment, frowning. “Who?”

 

“Seriously? Our shitty little first year. You know, ‘Jesus Christ’ kid?”

 

“Are you sure you’re talking about Knights?”

 

“Yes! He’s the brat that calls you ‘Leader’—oh, come on, now you’re just fucking with me.”

 

“Am I?” There might be a gleam of guile in Leo’s eyes, as he finishes off his own cake. “That wouldn’t be very Marvelous of me, would it?”

 

“You’re the worst,” Izumi snaps with little vitriol, and his spoon clinks against his own very empty plate. His stomach dares to remind him that he’s definitely a girl when it comes to sweets, and that cheesecake is still beautiful and untouched with swirls of dark chocolate all throughout it. Grumpily, he takes a spoonful, and shoves it over to Leo to share. “Write him something before he explodes. He wants you to shove your royal tongue in his mouth.”

 

“Fine, I’ll write you two a duet,” Leo announces, as if that’ll settle the matter. “Sena, go get us more cake, I’m not done having a date with you yet, and I want to eat _all_ of this.”

 

“Write me a duet with him and I’ll fuck you up,” Izumi threatens, pushing back his chair as he climbs to his feet. Fuck it, what’s the point if he can’t enjoy it in the moment? Leo doesn’t need to know he’ll stress about this for a week after. “After this, d’you wanna go to your place or mine?” Bringing anyone to his house is actually pretty nervewracking, but if anyone’s allowed, it’s Leo.

 

Leo stands so quickly the chair legs scrape the floor, and he grabs Izumi’s sleeve, eyes suddenly intent, breathing quickening. “I want to go to your place now. I want to meet the famous Mama and Papa that gave me Sena, wahaha!”

 

Izumi’s mouth opens, then shuts, and he huffs, grabbing up the box of Ruka’s cake and stuffing it into Leo’s grasp. “Don’t say stuff like that so _loud_. I’m inviting you over because they aren’t there, stupid king. Pa—my dad’s working and my mom spends all day with her shopping friends and stupid crafting groups.” Unfortunately, Leo seems so excited about the idea that he hesitates, and worries at his lower lip. “I mean, I _guess_ they might be back later tonight, if you really wanted to meet them.”

 

Leo locks his arm around Izumi’s, clutching Ruka’s cake with the other. “I’ll wait! I have to ask their permission, do I? How does it work in your culture?”

 

“T…their permission? For _what_ , exactly?” Shit, is he leaving himself open for some kind of an omiai? God, Izumi isn’t sure if his parents would love or hate that. He sighs, tries not to think about it too much, and drags Leo out of the shop. “I’m Japanese, idiot. Seriously, are you an alien?”

 

“I _wish_ ,” Leo says wistfully. “I don’t even speak their language. Made things very awkward when they abducted me. You don’t want to say yes to anything until you know what you’re agreeing to, let me tell you that!”

 

Izumi stops long enough to stare at him, and then fishes his mask back out, hooking it back into place. “If you meet my mom, she’s gonna try and feed you,” he says instead of voicing every urge to shake the weirdness out of Leo, once and for all. “Just agree. She won’t stop until you do.”

 

“That depends what she’s going to feed me.” Leo tries to put his own mask on with one hand, and fails, turning to thrust his face up towards Izumi. “I can’t hold Ruka-tan’s cake safe like this, Sena. Put it on me?”

 

“You’re really useless, aren’t you?” Izumi mutters, ignoring the niggling little warmth that spreads through him at how honestly _cute_ he finds the shit that Leo does. It’s not like it’s anything new, but maybe being able to admit it to himself makes it worse. He threads his fingers through the mask’s strings, pulling them over Leo’s ears, and tucks his hair back behind his ears as well. “There. C’mon, Ou-sama. My neighborhood’s only a few stops away on the subway.”


	4. Chapter 4

Leo dutifully follows after Izumi, but pauses, then presses their masked faces against each other, more or less making mouths meet behind paper cloth. His eyes sparkle, and he entwines his free hand with Izumi’s, tugging him towards the train. “I hope you know which way we’re going on the train,” he warns cheerfully, as if he hadn’t just essentially kissed Izumi in the middle of a crowded street. “Because I don’t!”

 

Izumi, still reeling, stumbles as he frantically looks about, expecting literally _everyone_ to be stopping and staring. Is his manager still around? What if she _sees,_ or someone tells her? When that isn’t the case, it doesn’t make him stop being paranoid, and he grabs Leo’s hand tightly, dragging him through the station. “Ou-sama,” he grinds out, “at any point that you wanna stop killing me, that’d be _great._ ”

 

For better or for worse, the train is crowded enough that there’s not a lot of room for Leo to misbehave for the three stops they ride it, and Izumi is swift in dragging him off of it and out onto the street again. The area is far quieter than the middle of the city, largely residential with the station being much tinier, and a brisk walk yields scenery of heavily maintained landscaping and shiny cars parked in almost every driveway. “Here it is,” he says, keying in the lock code on the narrow metal gate in front of his house. Izumi pushes it open, dragging Leo inside, and is grateful to see that his driveway is, indeed, empty. “We should have a few hours before anyone else is home.” Nerves start to set in. When’s the last time he had _anyone_ come to his house? Fuck.

 

Izumi’s nerves are so obvious that they start to affect Leo. What could he be hiding? He’s clearly nervous about something--and it isn’t the safety of his neighborhood, not when it’s obviously so safe that there are gorgeous fat cats trundling all around the little side streets. Maybe it’s something about himself that only happens around his family? Leo knows _he’s_ different around Ruka-tan...

 

“Sena,” he offers, gently as he can, “you don’t have to show me anything you don’t want to. If you’re nervous, I’m your champion.”

 

“Don’t _say_ that,” Izumi mutters, grabbing Leo’s hand again and dragging him to the pair of front steps. He fishes out his key from his jacket pocket, letting them inside before he loses the last of his nerve to do as much. _Get over it, get over it, he’s already seen you be weird in private before._ “No one ever comes over,” he awkwardly says, toeing off his shoes next to the door and bending down to tuck them into the shoe rack. The house is pristine and smells like it, too, with tiled floors that look like they’ve barely ever been walked on, let alone lived on. “So it’s just…it’s weird, okay? It’s fine. Let’s put Ruka-chan’s cake in the kitchen and we’ll go up to my room.”

 

Once Ruka’s cake is safely in the refrigerator (not being touched by anything else, none of the fresh fruits and vegetables next to a few slices of thick-sliced bread), Leo stretches out, wriggling out of his coat without taking it off, tossing it to Izumi. “The kitchen isn’t your room, right?”

 

“Don’t be dumb.” Izumi, for his part, resists the urge to chug an entire gallon of deionized water and toss up his cake into the kitchen sink. If Leo weren’t here, it’d be a given. His stomach flips unhappily, and he forces himself to lead the way to the stairs instead, hanging up Leo’s coat by the door as he does.

 

“It’s up here,” he says, opening up the door and fishing out his phone as he does, ignoring a couple of annoyed texts from his manager. “Sorry it’s a mess, I left in a hurry this morning.” To anyone else, it would look _nothing_ like a teenage boy’s room, and _nothing_ like a mess. There’s a stack of laundry on the made-up bed—the mess he’s referring to, definitely—and the only other clutter in the room is around his vanity, with countless fliers for Knights’ lives and other performances are pinned up, including at least half a dozen ballet programs. There’s also a not-so-subtle stack of polaroids and bromides, some more faded than others, and probably half a dozen torn-out magazine pages, all of Makoto Yuuki. “Make yourself at home,” Izumi begins, then quickly sweeps over to the bed, moving the laundry to the floor next to his nightstand, which is a subtle enough excuse to shove its partially open drawer the rest of the way shut. There’s some shit about him that Leo doesn’t need to have a glimpse of. “If you wanna work on music or whatever, that’s fine, or…”

 

Leo grabs Izumi’s laptop from the desk, pulling up his music program and clicking play. “We can listen to whatever you were--oooi, Sena, that’s you and me singing!”

 

One of these days, he’ll stop blushing over the inevitable bullshit that Leo does. “Oooii, how about not grabbing other people’s things like that?” Izumi growls, the secondhand embarrassment of hearing his own voice making him grab Leo by the shoulders and shake him. “What about it, huh? You sound good.”

 

Leo wraps his legs deftly around Izumi’s knees, tripping him just enough that he can drag him closer as he stumbles, until they’re both toppling onto the bed. His eyes are alight, but soft, and he reaches out to touch Izumi’s hair. “Your passion shines through there, but we need to sing more duets now that you’re a much better singer. I want to see your ascension, Sena.”

 

“…How can you just say stuff like that?” Izumi asked, both exasperated and amazed, even as he resists the urge to drag a pillow over and simultaneously hit Leo with it and hide behind it. He sags back with a hot exhale, frowning over at him. “You’re really not human.”

 

It’s not difficult to position Izumi where Leo wants him, even if he’s much denser than he looks, so Leo shoves him around until he’s on his back, and sits cross-legged on his belly. “What am I, then? You know me best of anyone, probably.”

 

Izumi relents to being put where Leo wants him without complaint, and blinks up at him, trying not to look too pleased about that statement. _Damn right I do_ , he gloats, his fingers curling into his palms with the urge to touch before he gives in and reaches up, resting his hands on Leo’s knees. “…A total weirdo,” he sighs, his eyes lidding. “But—nn, whatever. You’re…” His throat tightens up unexpectedly, and Izumi swallows, his eyes flicking to the side. “You’re my king, obviously. No real king acts like a normal human.”

 

“You know a lot of real kings, Sena?”

 

Leo leans back, resting his hands against Izumi’s thighs, feeling the surprisingly toned muscles there--of course, his ballet training, that must make a big difference there. “I thought I was your only king. I’ll get jealous if you swear fealty to anyone else.”

 

“Dumbass, you’re the only king,” Izumi mutters, his eyes flicking back down to where Leo’s hands are, then away again. If he doesn’t pay attention to that, maybe he won’t squirm. “You’re _my_ only king. I told you before, there’s no one else like you. Stop making me say it over and over.”

 

“I don’t have time to remember things like all the oaths I’ve taken, Sena,” Leo says, and kneads his hands in, shifting to get more comfortable. “I want to live life as fully as possible, not be some kind of cosmic...aaahhhh...accountant. Why do you think I write everything down? You should write down your pledge of loyalty to me, don’t you think?”

 

“N-no, I don’t! It’s only one pledge, it’s easy to remember!” Izumi’s pulse jumps, and he squirms, his toes curling in his socks when Leo moves and digs his hands in like that. “Who the hell else are _you_ taking oaths with, anyway,” he lowly grouses.

 

“All my brave, shining Knights, of course.” Leo’s smile turns a little sad, and he looks away, out through Izumi’s window at the clouded-over night sky. “A king isn’t anything without those he protects, after all. Your bravery exalts me. My protection keeps you safe. Your loyalty makes us proud. My love is your reward. That’s how it works, isn’t it?”

 

“…I guess, but…” Izumi shifts again, the frown on his lips deepening. “That’s not the kind of thing I wanna hear you saying about all of us. Like, yeah, of course it applies to all of us Knights on some level, you’re still…” _It’s too much to say out loud, idiot, you’re being selfish, you should know better than with someone like Leo, who belongs to everyone, who spreads himself so thin to make so many people happy._

 

Except it doesn’t _have_ to be like that, and the slightest chance of that makes Izumi’s heart leap into his throat.

 

“…Stupid king.” Hasn’t Leo already insisted that he was special, even amongst his Knights? It’s that thought that keeps him going on most days, and Izumi clings to that now when he huffs out a breath, and smashes down his embarrassment to roll them, dropping Leo onto his back with a scowl. “Your oath to me is special, so you shouldn’t have to write it down,” he insists. “Unless you’re doing this kind of thing with everyone else, but I know that’s not true, so stop being stupid.”

 

“Sena. You’re...”

 

Words are a mystery to Leo. When they pair perfectly with music they start to make sense, but so much more often, they elude him, and the things he say injure or confuse the people he cares about. What could he possibly say to someone like Sena Izumi, who isn’t the serious-minded sort of person that immediately forms judgments about him, but the same kind of scattered, melancholic sort that he himself is. Except Izumi isn’t a genius--he’s lovely, talented, and loyal, but his own spark of madness doesn’t trend towards something that will make other people cheer in the end, just the sort of thing that defeats himself eventually. Leo’s always had a soft spot for that.

 

“Captain,” he says softly. “Captain of my brave Knights. You’re the last one left, aren’t you? From our shining days, way back at the dawn of time. The last one to believe in me.”

 

Izumi blinks down at him, just in time to catch the unholy prick of tears in his eyes that completely catch him off-guard. It’s the softness in Leo’s voice, probably, or the way he just sounds so _serious_ , probably. Whatever it is, Izumi swallows around the stupid lump in his throat, and he drops his head down, his forehead knocking against Leo’s shoulder. “Yeah,” he hoarsely agrees. “That sounds good. Shit, I…” He trails off suddenly, vehemently shaking his head. “Except—I—you know I fucked everything up, right, while you were gone? I always fuck things up for the people I love and I never got a chance to apologize, I—“

 

“So apologize.” Leo’s voice isn’t cruel, but it doesn’t have a trace of pity, either. “Confess your sins, and let your King forgive you, like you never have.”

 

“Don’t—“ _Don’t say that, I’m not going to be able to stop!_ Leo isn’t fair. He doesn’t play by any of the rules that everyone else seems to that makes it so _easy_ to skirt by and to lie and to get what he wants. No one else ever makes him feel so _naked_ , and Izumi shivers, his stomach flip-flopping, his skin feeling itchy, like he needs to claw it off. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, flopping down, exhaling a hot, wet breath against Leo’s shoulder. “I…I just wanted Yuu-kun to look at me like he used to. I—you don’t have to get it, no one does, it’s fine. But you weren’t there to stop me, to distract me…so I…I made everyone look bad.”

 

Leo moves, taking Izumi’s face in his hands, pulling him back so they can be eye to eye. “Don’t hide any of your sins from me, Sena. Tell me what you did, why it was wrong. Tell me like you’re the first one who gets to explain it to me--like you should have been.”

 

_Please don’t make me._ Izumi’s lower lip trembles until he bites it, his gaze flicking sideways. “…I couldn’t stand how Yuu-kun wouldn’t look at me,” he quietly says, the words sounding hollow when he speaks, like they’re coming from someone else. “He kept running away from me, and talking to everyone but me, and I…it was driving me insane. The way he acted, it’s like I was disgusting and he couldn’t stand to see me. I thought…maybe it’s just because he forgot how much I helped him, maybe if we had a chance to talk again, he’d remember, and he’s see how much he was hurting me by ignoring me like this, so I…”

 

Izumi swallows, lurching back, wiping the back of his hand across his eyes. “I tried to get him alone, thinking it was all his stupid friends on Trickstar that were ruining it,” he bitterly continues. “But that didn’t help, and I lost it. I—I don’t even remember how it all happened, but I remember knowing exactly where to take him, and I kept him there. For days. Because he wouldn’t talk to me, wouldn’t act like he used to, wouldn’t call me the way he used to—so he’s right, you know? I am disgusting.” Itchy, he’s _itchy_ , and Izumi shivers, rolling off of Leo restlessly. “What normal person kidnaps someone? I can’t think straight when I think about Yuu-kun, i-it’s like I need to cut off my own skin.”

 

Leo looks down, sternly ordering his heart not to twinge. He has to be strong, for both of them. The King must be cold, dispassionate, and stern when he needs to be. Someone has to hold the power to discipline his Knights. “And?”

 

“…and even after that, I still couldn’t leave him alone. I forced Trickstar to perform with us, I tried to drag him back into modeling with me, I threatened to kill him and myself and anyone who talked to him…” Izumi’s nails bite into his thighs as he swings his legs over the side of the bed, sitting up with a shaky breath. “I gave Knights the worst reputation possible. I’m the reason why we were suspended from all activities at the school. I couldn’t stop. I didn’t even try. It…it didn’t matter, really, because you weren’t there. I wish I had killed myself.” Another restless shift, and Izumi stares down at his trembling hands. “I’m sorry.”

 

_It’s all my fault._

 

The words come easily up from Leo’s throat, but he swallows them. Excuses, lenience--that won’t help Izumi, and it won’t help put Knights back together as it should be. Izumi _had_ acted about as poorly as anyone ever could, and ignoring the issue isn’t going to repair anything, let alone Izumi’s fragile psyche.

 

So he lays a hand on Izumi’s head, as any good King should to his loyal vassal. “I forgive you,” he says, earnest, sincere. “I can’t do anything about that shining light that you miss, Sena. But you never have to fight in my place again, getting battered and weary.”

 

He leans down, until their faces are bare centimeters apart, and his eyes flash steel. “I’m picking up my sword and crown.”

 

Izumi jerks at the touch, snapped out of the depths of his thoughts to stare back at Leo, his eyes unfocused and wet. “You…but…Ou-sama, I was supposed to fight in your place, and I still can—“ He swallows, glancing away again. “But I…didn’t know when you were going to come back,” he softly, miserably adds. “I don’t want you to get hurt again. I’ll do anything to protect you, so please don’t throw yourself into harm’s way because of all of this.”

 

It sounds far less like they’re talking about a stupid, frivolous idol school and far more like an actual kingdom, but they’ve always talked like that, no matter how it unsettles Izumi to the core. He shivers again, rubbing at his arms when goosebumps prick his skin. “I’d do anything for you. I’m…a much better sword than I am a makeshift king, I swear.”

 

“You only need to be makeshift if I’m not able to fight. It’s far better for you to support me and be by my side while I fight, isn’t it?” Leo lets his thumbs brush under Izumi’s eyes, thumbing away little droplets, bringing one to his lips to kiss it. “You don’t need to stand in for your foolish, useless King anymore, my brave Knight.” A smile twists his lips. “I challenged Tenshouin to a Live Battle.”

 

“You…you _what?_ ” Izumi abruptly grabs at Leo’s hands, gripping hard enough that his own knuckles pop. “When? Ou-sama, you can’t _do_ things like that without warning me, especially if it’s Tenshouin. He’s—I’ll fucking kill him.” Maybe that last part doesn’t need to be said, but it escapes anyway.

 

“A Live with very...particular conditions. Sounds fun, doesn’t it? Wahaha!” The manic gleam is back in Leo’s eye, but it’s less frantic, less unhinged than it has been for the last several months whenever it shows up. “I’ll need your help, Sena. The others in the group--they’re good Knights, but they don’t know what truly makes us, not the way you do.” He pauses, then adds, “And they aren’t the singer and dancer you’ve become, either.”

 

“Nothing about going against Tenshouin Eichi sounds fun,” Izumi whispers, but he feels his shoulders already sag, the helpless compulsion to agree making him nod. “Whatever you need me to do…I’ll do it. If you write me new music, it’ll be the best thing performed all night, I swear. I don’t care how much I have to practice.”

 

“Help me hone my sword.” Leo grins, looking down at Izumi’s shivering face. Izumi is such an unhappy guy most of the time, half the reason he wants to keep inspiring his Knights to new heights. “And be my inspiration. Sena, Sena, you always make me want to write you songs, you know? Songs just for _you_.”

 

“Don’t say that.” Izumi slithers off the bed entirely, plopping down onto the floor, and stuffs his face into Leo’s thigh. “You’re the only one who says things like that, it’s weird. I’m ugly and disgusting and your songs aren’t at all.”

 

“Some of them are.” Leo lets his hands move down to stroke Izumi’s hair, not trying to help him up. Maybe Izumi needs to be down there for a while. Who knows? Izumi can be sort of a mystery sometimes, even to him. “We need some grotesque things in our arsenal, as much as strong and radiant things. Don’t take away my weapons, Sena. I need all of them, and all of my brave Knights to use them, even the scary weapons. They’ll scare the enemy too, you know.”

 

_Tenshouin isn’t like anyone else, he’d probably like it_ , is on the tip of Izumi’s tongue, but he silences himself in favor of letting Leo pet his hair for a moment, feeling the stiff crunch of styling gel and butting his head against Leo’s hand harder. “…Fine,” he eventually agrees, shutting his eyes. “Whatever you want to use me for is fine. I want to be your sword again.”

 

He shifts, his fingers curling against the side of the bed, and he tilts his head back to stare up at Leo, red-eyed and sniffly. “…I need to go shower,” he finally settles upon, slowly hauling himself to his feet. _Don’t invite him, don’t, not right now._ “You can come keep me company, if you want.”

 

Leo blinks. Izumi must have an _enormous_ shower, if it’s built for two people. Cool--he’s got to see this. Just as he opens his mouth to reply in the exhilarated affirmative, when his brain returns from walkabout and whispers that this is absolutely a sex thing. It doesn’t change his words, but the tone is slightly different than it would be. He stands, unbuttoning his shirt, and meets Izumi’s eyes. “Where do I put my clothes?”

 

Izumi shrugs, still unfocused and wobbly, and toes off his socks and nothing else. “On the bed is fine. I have my own bathroom, it’s just right here.” A vague flutter of his hand towards a door that looks like it would lead to a closet follows.

 

“Sena’s my favorite rich kid,” Leo teases, then wriggles his body in an odd contortion, and the rest of his clothes fall to the ground immediately. “You keep your clothes in the bathroom when you shower?”

 

“I’m not ri—you strip too fast, what the hell.” At least Leo’s weirdness snaps him out of it somewhat, though Izumi still feels itchy in his own skin, distractedly, painfully so. “I’m…not good at people seeing me naked.” His fingers move to the buttons of his shirt. “I’m trying to let you be the exception, so don’t…say anything weird for once.”

 

“It’s just like at an onsen,” Leo says with a smile, moving forward to hook his chin over Izumi’s shoulder, entirely uncaring about his own nudity. “I get nervous about it too. Just not around people like you, Sena. Heh, I guess you’re the only one who’s like Sena, though...”

 

“I don’t like onsens, either.” It’s not worth mentioning he tends to jump into pools and waterholes with all of his clothes on. Leo is at least warm and unthreatening, and Izumi’s fingers finish with his buttons. He gingerly shrugs his shirt off, not wanting to dislodge Leo from being cuddled against him. Like this, Leo at least can’t get a good look at him. “Nude shoots are the worse,” he suddenly says, hands on his belt. “I only did one. Naru-kun was supposed to do it, too, but his parents wouldn’t sign off. It fucking sucked.”

 

“I’m surprised your parents let you, Sena. Are they not protective over who gets to see you?” Izumi seems to want him in a certain position, so Leo stays there, wrapping his arms around Izumi’s waist. “You’re so little here, whoa!”

 

“They’re protective, but…they know modeling is something I really wanna do, so…” Izumi flushes, shifting within Leo’s arms, but not pulling away. At least it’s a compliment that resonates with what he wants to hear, especially coming from _Leo_ , and it makes him ignore the anxiety of getting undressed for a split second. “I wish I had your body,” he murmurs, his belt hitting the floor, and after that, he tugs his pants and underwear down in one go, just to get it over with. When’s the last time he showed his bare legs in front of anyone, let alone _anything_ from the waist down? Even when he and Arashi _did it_ , he was insistent about what Arashi could and couldn’t see. “You’re basically perfect.”

 

“I like that Ruka-tan looks somewhat like me, you know.” Leo doesn’t pay a whole lot of attention to what Izumi looks like naked, intent on following without letting their legs get tangled. “If I look like her, I must be pretty cute, because Ruka-tan is the cutest ever. Not that you should look at her naked!”

 

“I’m not gonna look at her naked, dumbass.” Izumi pulls him along to the bathroom, content with having Leo basically plastered to him and unable to stare too much. In the fluorescent light of his bathroom, Izumi feels that much more uncomfortable and exposed, and he pulls away hurriedly to go ahead and get the shower on, keeping his back to Leo. It’s _much_ larger than any traditional Japanese bath, which is definitely useful right now…not that he’s ever considered having anyone else in it with him. “You do look a lot like her.” He exhales a long breath. “I’m glad that guys like you exist, though.”

 

“Mm, yeah?” Leo nuzzles at Izumi’s neck, feeling the warmth between them and reluctant to let it go, draping himself over Izumi’s back, eyes half-lidded. “S’warm. Sorry if I get sleepy...Nn, I’m glad there are guys like you, Sena. You’re so pretty and nice to touch.”

 

“Don’t go to sleep, you’ll drown,” Izumi sighs, testing the water to make sure it’s hot enough before he tugs Leo with him into the shower. At least underneath the water, it’s a lot easier to obscure things that he doesn’t want Leo to see—namely bulges and stretch marks that _definitely_ aren’t there, and short, narrow white and pink scars across his stomach and thighs that definitely _are,_ all in various states of fading and healing. A couple of cuts at the top of his right thigh are fresh enough to sting when the water hits them, and Izumi twists in Leo’s arms, yanking him closer and burying his face down into the side of his neck. “Ou-sama, you’re so cute,” he murmurs. “I think about that a lot.”

 

“Wehh? That’s what your mind is full of, Sena? What a cute person you are deep down!” Leo reaches up to wipe wet hands down Izumi’s back, then his hair, guiding them under the shower spray. Getting properly wet and clean isn’t as easy with two people, especially when one is clinging to him so much. “What does a king do to reward cuteness? I’ll have to figure that out...”

 

“Nn. Get it right, you’re the cute one.” Izumi’s arms tighten around Leo’s waist, keeping him close when there’s enough water to properly plaster them together now. “I never thought you’d like me back, you know.” Ah, now he’s going to just ramble. At least Leo does enough of that to him that it’s probably fine. “I was fine being just your Knight, but…”

 

“You’ll always be my Knight.” Leo fidgets, awkwardly trying to reach for the soap and sort of rub it over Izumi’s back, feeling as if he should be doing a lot more actively instead of just standing here getting wet. “I told you, I’m a selfish, greedy King. And I want a lot more from you than loyalty, you know!”

 

“Good. I want you selfish.” Izumi’s hands are far more focused on slipping lower, his fingers curling around the curve of Leo’s ass to gently squeeze. His hair, almost soaked through now, falls in wet, damp curls around his face as he nuzzles into Leo’s neck, lips parting as he presses a warm, shaky kiss there. “I’d do anything for you, you know that, right? Ou-sama, _anything._ ”

 

“Good!” Leo flexes his buttocks, about to laugh at the way Izumi’s hands splay over his cheeks, when the act of it brings him more into contact with Izumi’s body, and his breath stutters as a tendril of arousal snakes through his belly.

 

For just a moment, Leo’s vision darkens, and he remembers another figure--taller, far taller, though even Izumi is taller than he, pressing him against a wall, whispering laughter into his ear as he--

 

_No, no, this is Sena!_

 

Leo squeezes his eyes shut, forehead thunking onto Izumi’s shoulder, sucking in a breath through his teeth. “Talk, would you?” he whispers. “You can do anything. Just...talk while you do it.” _So I know it’s you._

 

Izumi falters, just for a second, just for a heartbeat. He’s not the best at that kind of thing, what can he possibly say that he hasn’t said before, how—“Ou-sama, I love you.”

 

It doesn’t matter if he’s bad at it, apparently, if Leo wants him to do it.

 

The tension in Leo’s body is palpable, easily felt just where Izumi’s hands grab at him, and even though the compulsion to push Leo back into wall of the shower is there, Izumi flattens himself back against it instead, dragging Leo against him as he sucks on the side of his neck. “Ou-sama, you’re the cutest, I can’t ever stop thinking about it, I—“ His breath hiccups, his fingers pawing up Leo’s back, tugging out the tie in Leo’s ponytail to let it spread wetly over his shoulders and back to better drag his fingers through it. “Do kings ever marry their Knights? Nn, make an exception for me.”

 

“It’s part of the Oath,” Leo says softly, taking in a deep, shuddering breath, hands coming to rest on Izumi’s chest. He can feel the intake of breath there, each little gasp, and it helps ground him, keep him present, keep him sane. His mind grasps at the words he needs, even as his head tips back, hair tumbling down his upper back. “It just...says to love one only, cleave to that one, and worship them by years of noble deeds, until you win that love. Sena...you won me a long time ago, you know...”

 

“Write me a song about it,” Izumi insists, his hands sliding up to cup the back of Leo’s head as he arches off the wall to better let his mouth wander over that bared throat. It was nerve-wracking enough last time to leave marks, but he can’t _help it_ , not when Leo’s offering his throat up and the chance to make it clear that his king belongs to _him…_ “I’ll sing it, then…” Izumi trails off, long enough to gently nip at the lobe of Leo’s ear, then mouths his way down his throat, sucking off droplets of water. “Then, mmn, everyone can know that I’m yours, and you’re mine.”

 

Izumi’s voice goes through Leo like a hot brand, like a bolt of lightning, and he arches forward, feeling his cock swell and rub against Izumi’s powerful thighs. He gasps, and lets one leg lift, balancing on one foot as he wraps a leg around Izumi’s waist, sliding his foot between Izumi’s back and the wall, letting Izumi nearly lick him dry. “Be my inspiration forever,” he whispers, letting his back arch, muscles trembling as he tries to hold still. “Nnnh, Sena...I’m gonna fall but I...” The noise turns to a little frustrated growl in his throat as he tries to stay upright, clinging to Izumi’s neck.

 

“No, you aren’t, I’ve got you, I’ve got you—“ Even if not slipping is trickier than it looks, Izumi manages it as he grabs at Leo’s waist again, then lower, his fingers digging little, needy bruises into the curve of his ass. Izumi gives into compulsion this time, flipping them with his feet squeaking against the shower floor, pressing Leo’s back firmly to the wall and wriggling between his thighs, panting out a hot breath at the way it feels just to grind his cock against Leo’s hip. “Ou-sama…Ou-sama, you can hold onto me, it’s fine,” he groans, his head thunking against the wall next to Leo’s. “Those noises you make…really are the cutest, you know…”

 

“Sena--”

 

Leo’s voice spikes, and he lets his other leg come up, jumping slightly to get both his legs around Izumi’s waist, squeezing him close, trembling with every squeeze and press against the swelling length of his cock. It’s never felt like this before by himself, not even when he and Izumi had done something like this before, and he bites his own lip, fighting to keep his eyes open as his hips grind frantically against Izumi’s. “Sena...keep talking, it--”

 

He wants the words, not because it reminds him where he is and who he’s with, but because Izumi’s voice, all low and rumbly when he gets into it, is sending tremors and shocks through him to every part, whipping his body to new heights of arousal.

 

Izumi _hates_ the way his voice drops to nothing but a rumbling husk (it’s too low, too masculine, he’s always hated it), but he can’t do anything about it when Leo is begging him to keep going. He’s helplessly bound to obey, and it’s why his hands tighten, why he hikes Leo further up against him, pushes him into the wall as he pants into his neck, exhaling a groan with every slick grind of their bodies together.

 

“It feels good, doesn’t it, Ou-sama?” Izumi’s arms tremble from the effort, but Leo’s at least as light as any girl he’s had to scoop up on stage, and _much_ more fun to hold, besides. His toes curl against the slick floor, and he gently bites into Leo’s shoulder, stifling the way his voice breaks for a moment, his eyes fluttering as his cock slickly grinds against Leo’s stomach. “I want you…want you to feel good,” he rasps. “You’re so hot like this—at some point, you gotta let me take pictures of you, I want to look at your face like this whenever I want—“

 

Leo nods frantically, willing to let Izumi do almost anything he wants at this point, anything to keep Izumi rubbing and squeezing and _talking_. He clings, and tries for a kiss, but Izumi’s mouth is against his ear and honestly, that’s how he likes it. “Sena,” he pants, hearing his own voice break, his back arching dramatically as he teeters on the brink. “Want--Sena, I want you to--more--feels good, I want--”

 

As much as he’d love to have his fingers wrapped around Leo’s cock, that’s not happening when they’re both slippery and wet and Leo is clinging to him. Instead, Izumi shifts to grind against him harder, his hands sliding lower to grab at Leo’s ass when he rocks forward, pinning him to the wall and feeling the hot pulse of his cock against Leo’s when he rubs against him. “Ou-sama,” he pants out raggedly, biting his lip for a moment when his cock jumps, dripping and eager. “N-next time…next time, if I take pictures, you’ve gotta…” His face flushes hot, far more from the thought that passes through his mind and how much he _aches_ than the heat of the shower. “You should let me fuck you—I’ll take care of you, I’ll show you how good it feels.”

 

Leo’s mouth opens in a sudden, wholly unmusical cry as he comes hard, spilling between them, fingers digging into Izumi’s neck so deeply he’s glad his nails are short. His breathing sounds like nothing more than a ragged sob, the slick heat between them just barely warmer than the water coursing over them.

 

His legs feel limp, and he starts to droop, still gasping, still hiccupping. “Want you to,” he breathes, eyes hooded and warm, face flushed dark.

 

The bite of Leo’s nails into his skin could be harder—those are marks Izumi wants left on his skin, little sharp reminders that his king is clinging to his neck, arching against him, flushed and trembling and _gorgeous_.

 

Izumi’s head thunks down into Leo’s shoulder, the ragged, broken noise that leaves his throat barely muffled where he buries his face when only another, aching lurch of his hips leaves him coming as well, spilling over Leo’s stomach. The shivery waves that course down his spine don’t stop, and his legs wobble, threatening to buckle. Giving up before they do, Izumi sinks down to the floor of the shower, dragging Leo with him into his lap, grabbing at his back, his shoulders, fisting his fingers into his hair. “Ou-sama,” he murmurs, nosing at Leo’s neck.

 

“This is a bad place to sit,” Leo says with a slow exhale, petting vaguely at Izumi’s hair. “Very wet. Slippery and cold. Nn, Sena, I mean it. You should do it, like you said.”

 

“G…give me a minute and we’ll get out.” Being drenched by water that threatens to get colder by the minute is a solid reason to move, but the rest of it—Izumi huffs, sudden embarrassment over what he said in the heat of the moment taking over. “At some point,” he mumbles. “I…I don’t wanna fuck it up.”

 

“Don’t take it back now, Sena,” Leo warns, raising one eyebrow. “You’re a Knight of your word, aren’t you?”

 

Izumi scowls, and deliberately reaches a hand down to pinch one of Leo’s thighs. “You can’t use that for _everything_ ,” he complains, drawing back and dumping Leo on his ass as he climbs to his feet. “Give me a few minutes at least, it doesn’t get hard again that fast.”

 

“Aren’t you going to help me up and wash my hair?” Leo complains, blinking up into the water spray. “Oi, Sena, is there anything I’m supposed to do first? You know, I don’t.”

 

Feeling his anxiety start to creep back is never a good feeling, and Izumi tries to squash it by grabbing Leo by the arm and pulling him to his feet. “You know we don’t _have to_ , right?” he mutters, grabbing for his shampoo to lather it through Leo’s hair before he can complain again. “I was just talking because you wanted me to talk. Not that I don’t want to do it or anything, but we don’t have to do that, like, right now—“

 

“Does it feel good?” Leo asks, more curious than anything, letting his eyes flutter closed as Izumi touches his hair. Izumi has lovely hands, gentle and precise, and it’s easy to feel soothed. “You’ve done it before, right? So I’ll be in your care.”

 

Leo has nice hair, and Izumi lets his hands linger, kneading into his scalp and trailing all the way through that little tail of his. “I think it feels good,” he finally says, allowing himself to be gentled back to calm by Leo not being _pushy_ , just _interested_. “I don’t think all guys like it, though. And I’ve never…I’ve never, uh, put it in someone before.”

 

“Eh? Wahaha, Sena, are you sure you’re the right one for the job?” Leo beams, kicking his legs out around Izumi’s, scooting forward on the bathtub floor. “Maybe I should be doing this!”

 

Izumi huffs, pulling on a handful of Leo’s hair before releasing him with a half-hearted shove and moving to scrub his own hair clean. “’s not like that wouldn’t be fine, too,” he mutters. “I…I dunno, I just wanted to take care of you, that’s all.”

 

“Sena. I want you to.” Leo looks up through wet strands of hair plastered to his face, water running down to drip off his chin. “I want you to take care of me and make me feel good. No one else is going to do it, and you’re such a perfectionist--you’ll keep going until it’s perfect, I know!”

 

“Everyone should want to make you feel good,” Izumi deflects underneath his breath, tilting his head back underneath the water to let the soap run down his back. He exhales a hot breath, then lurches forward, grabbing for Leo and kissing him soundly. “I’ll make it good,” he quietly promises. “I swear. If you wanna do it now, we can.” His parents aren’t going to be home for another few hours at _least._

 

Leo grins. “Sure. What do I have to do to get ready? Seems like I might crap myself if I’m not prepared, right?”

 

Izumi shoves a hand over Leo’s mouth. “If you say gross shit like that, I’m gonna kill you,” he bluntly says. “But—yeah, basically. I’ve got some stuff to clean out with, if you want to do that while I get everything else ready.”

 

Leo licks Izumi’s hand, then deliberately lets himself drool on it, looking up at his face with a sly grin when he pulls away. “Not too complicated, is it? Or does it have instructions?”

 

Izumi wipes his hand on Leo’s hair, as if the shower hasn’t washed away his drooling, anyway. “Both—if you can’t figure it out, then you really are a stupid king.” He slowly hauls himself out of the shower, firmly ignoring how shaky he still feels, and drips water on the floor of the bathroom for a moment as he rummages in the cabinet underneath his sink. He sets a box out next to the shower and reaches back underneath the water to pat Leo’s head. “Call me if you need me, but otherwise, have fun, Ou-sama,” he dryly says, grabbing up an enormous, fluffy towel to wrap himself up in before leaving an extra for Leo and escaping back into his bedroom.

 

He immediately dives for his phone, so help him.

 

**To: Naru-kun**

**Subject: yo**

**so i might be about to actually do it with him and i. could. maybe use some tips**

 

**To: Izumi-chan**

**Subject: !!!!!!!!**

**Seriously????? omg omg i guess this really isn’t the time for your first topping lesson tbh!!!**

 

**To: Izumi-chan**

**Subject: ok but**

**have some pillows around to help prop him up. EASIEST for 1st time is u in seiza, him on his knees w/back 2u, him sitting down.**

 

**To: Izumi-chan**

**Subject: also**

**i seriously cant believe u were serious abt topping wwwww**

 

**To: Naru-kun**

**Subject: ugh**

**why are you like this. are you sure that’s the best way because from behind’s a little. idk**

 

**To: Naru-kun**

**Subject: also fuck you**

**i literally mentioned it when we were getting off in the shower and he came really fucking fast so sOMEONE at least seems to appreciate the idea**

 

**To: Izumi-chan**

**Subject: lmao**

**why did you even text me when you’re just going to do what you want??????????**

 

**To: Naru-kun**

**Subject: i hate you**

**i’m not going to just do what i want though??? i’m just. idk idk**

 

Izumi hesitates, raking a hand back through his damp hair as he glares down at his phone, and flops down onto the edge of his bed. A quick check into his nightstand drawer at least confirms that he still has a stash of lube and condoms because, well, _Arashi_ , but that’s the easy part.

 

**To: Naru-kun**

**Subject:**

**you can keep laughing if you want but it’s not funny. i really don’t want to fuck this up**

 

**To: Naru-kun**

**Subject:**

**i’m fucking terrified i’m gonna throw up**

 

**To: Izumi-chan**

**Subject: uh**

**am i the only person youve ever done it with? u never told me!**

 

**To: Izumi-chan**

**Subject: www**

**You gotta take care of Ou-sama he’s special you know!!! but ur good at sex fyi youll be fine!!!!**

 

“Sena? I think I’m done? Wahaha, that was so weird! Do you do that every time? I’m just gonna...throw the stuff in the sink?”

 

**To: Naru-kun**

**Subject: ugggghhhhh**

**i’m never asking you for advice EVER AGAIN**

 

“Y-yeah, just throw it in the sink, that’s fine.” At least Arashi didn’t _know_ he’d been a virgin when they did it for the first time. That’s encouraging, and Izumi flops onto his back, staring up into his phone as he compulsively switches it to camera to take a selfie—before dropping it on his face courtesy of shaky hands. “Ow. Hurry up and come to bed, stupid.”

 

Leo is waddling slightly when he emerges from the bathroom, a somewhat bemused look on his face as he settles onto the bed. “You look way too tense,” he says, crawling until he’s straddling Izumi’s hips. “Are you scared of my ass?”

 

“No,” Izumi exasperatedly says, glowering up at Leo. “This is just my face.” He pokes at one of Leo’s hip bones, dragging his thumb against it. “D’you have to be so blunt _all_ of the time, that’s the part that’s making me tense.”

 

“My bluntness is one of my charms,” Leo assures him, settling down to sit on Izumi’s belly. It feels different than it had before, when they were wearing clothes, and he drags his hand over soft skin, fingers tracing little pink and white lines. “It sounds very thrilling, the sex part.”

 

Minus the dimmer light of the bathroom and the spray of water, there’s not really anywhere for him to hide. Izumi shifts, trying to be nonchalant and _chill_ about it, but it’s still unsettling having anyone see him like this—naked, exposed, something to be picked apart and criticized, especially when what Leo is touching is so _ugly_. “I’ve barely told you anything, all I said is that I’d do it,” he grumbles, grabbing for Leo’s hand when it turns too much, and presses a kiss to the back of it. “You should draw on me again, the next time you’re all inspired. I was gonna keep the stuff from earlier as long as I could, but it washed off in the shower.”

 

“Sena is disappointingly clean,” Leo says, almost reprovingly, though he leans down to rest his chest on Izumi’s, chin on his chest. “It’s all right. I remember the song. Just stay by my side the next time I get inspired.”

 

“That’s a given,” Izumi exhales, reaching for his phone and flipping to the selfie he took earlier, sleeve hiked up to give a full view of Leo’s work. His other hand drags down Leo’s back, through the ends of his damp hair and along his spine. “I took a picture, just in case. I’d post it to Knights’ twitter, but that might be a little…obvious, huh.”

 

“Nonsense. It’s my right to write on any of my Knights, but your skin is the bluest-toned. But don’t post to twitter, then anyone could see my beautiful song!”

 

Leo grins, pushing back against Izumi’s hand, liking the coolness of it, the paleness of his fingers. “You’re a beautiful canvas, Sena.”

 

“So write on me the most.” Izumi drops his phone and sinks his fingers into Leo’s hair, tugging him up a few more centimeters to kiss him. “Everywhere.” He exhales a breath through his nose. “My king’s the only one allowed to see all of me, that’s the rule.”

 

“Sena...” Leo leans into the kiss, letting his tongue tease over Izumi’s lips, questing after entrance. “Good. Keep it for me, I’m a jealous king and I don’t want to share.” He looks down at the fine pink and white lines again, and cocks his head. “You knew that, or you wouldn’t have become sheet music for me, right?”

 

The shiver that twitches down Izumi’s spine is startling, leaving little goosebumps in its wake. “I…” _What the fuck, why do I like that so much?_ he frantically asks himself, knowing there’s probably not a good answer to that question, but he’s quick to grab at Leo again all the same, crushing their mouths together so he doesn’t have to answer, doesn’t end up saying something dumb.

 

Leo’s mouth is hot and sweet, and Izumi drags their tongues together until he can suck Leo’s into his mouth with a soft, wet groan. This is Leo, the only person that Izumi’s ever been able to stand _looking_ at the shit he hides, let alone _commenting_ on it—not even Arashi deserves an explanation, even though he’s caught a glimpse during shoots and tried to be casual about it. Maybe it’s because Leo’s on the same level of fucked up as he is, and Izumi struggles not to grab a razor out of his nightstand and shove it into Leo’s hand with the suggestion of _you can leave more of them, maybe it’ll feel better if you do it._

 

But that’s too weird, too much, and he’s _got_ to stop.

 

Izumi rolls them, crawling up between Leo’s legs as he presses him back into the comforter, his hands splaying over Leo’s thighs. “Ou-sama, you’re perfect,” he murmurs, his mouth trailing wetly to Leo’s throat, where he sucks just over a mark he’s already left. “You get it, of course you do.”

 

Leo’s eyes are intent, staring up at Izumi through a haze, seeing him with sharp focus despite the cloud of hormones buzzing around them. “We’re so much more than what we were born,” he breathes, letting his thighs part, feet flexing against the bed as Izumi settles between his legs. “You’re my masterpiece in progress, Sena. I’ll never be done making you perfect. Ahh....show me your inspiration, won’t you?”

 

“Whatever you want,” Izumi dazedly mutters, his breath hitching as he settles between Leo’s thighs, feeling that little, tense shiver that runs through Leo’s movements as if it’s his own. He swings his hand out blindly, grabbing for the lube he’d set out on the nightstand, suddenly so eager to be closer to Leo that it aches every second that he isn’t doing something about it. “Ou-sama—I’m gonna make you feel good, okay?” His breath is fast against Leo’s ear as he fumbles with the lube, dripping it all over his fingers, and his hand shakes as it delves between Leo’s legs. Slipping those fingers down to drag against Leo’s hole makes his nerves spike again, but if he just does it like he likes it, then maybe… “Just tell me…tell me if you hate it, I’ll make it better, I swear.”

 

Leo grabs Izumi’s wrist, urging him forward with both hands, eyes showing not a hint of fear or hesitation. “I’m not going to hate it. Don’t worry, Sena, I’m ready to have a good time!”

 

He is, for what it’s worth, and he wriggles to prove it, suddenly very glad he’d taken Izumi’s little cleaning supplies earlier, since this makes it easy for him to push down, shivering when Izumi’s fingers touch him so intimately. “Nnh, your touch...it’s gentle, it’s...nice...”

 

Izumi licks his lips, his eyes flicking down to watch as he carefully presses that first finger inside. It’s slick, and much easier than he expects it to be when his finger sinks in to the second knuckle, and he’s steadying _himself_ by curling his other hand against Leo’s spread thighs. “Ou-sama, you’re…” He swallows, his face burning hot as he mutters distractedly, “You’re…really hot inside, it’s…” Curling that finger and stroking deliberately makes his own cock twitch, especially when he can feel so intimately how warm Leo is, how he clenches and twitches, and for the first time, Izumi wonders if he _has_ been missing out, not being on this side of things.

 

Leo hadn’t entirely expected how much it feels like Izumi is pressing on the very center of him, making him gasp and shiver and twitch. Heat unfurls inside of him, and he lets his head roll back, throwing a forearm over his face as his cheeks flush deep red. A low whine snakes its way out of his throat, and he lets his thighs flex, helping his hips shove up against Izumi’s hand. “NNn....eehhhhh....” None of the words he grasps at show up, instead seeming to liquify on his tongue.

 

_That’s_ a positive for sure, and it encourages Izumi like nothing else could. He lurches up, face buried into Leo’s neck as he draws his hand back enough to immediately get a second slick finger inside—because if Leo’s anything like him, more is definitely better. It sinks in easily, and Izumi groans, his other hand burrowing down to grab a handful of Leo’s ass, squeezing and gently pulling him down. “Nnhn…Ou-sama…Ou-sama, I…” The _fuck_ can he even say now? It’s hard to even talk around hot, eager little huffs of breath, but trying to say something _coherent…_

 

Maybe to someone a little more sane, it would be weird to keep hearing a title instead of his name. Leo isn’t sure. He’s never been anyone more sane. As it is, hearing Izumi rasping out that _Ou-sama, Ousama_ goes to his cock as much as the fingers inside of him, and he feels his own swell against his stomach, suddenly hard and heavy despite coming just minutes ago in the bathroom. “W-what are you groaning for?” he laughs, breathless. “Nnh, I’m the one that...Sena, Sena--”

 

“B-because you’re so…” Izumi bites at his lip, stifling another noise when he twists his hand, spreading those fingers inside of Leo, curling them back towards himself to stroke him inside. “You look so good.” It’s sort of infuriating that the sight of Leo sprawled out on his back and getting fingered makes him as hard as it does—Izumi was holding out a hope that he _wasn’t_ like every other guy out there, getting off on this kind of thing. “Fuck you,” he mutters, tugging Leo’s hips up at a sharper angle to let his fingers sink in deeper, eager to feel more of the way that Leo’s body just sucks him in. “You’re too hot.”

 

Leo starts to say something, but it turns into a sharp cry when Izumi’s fingers curl, stroking against a spot inside him that makes his lets kick out. “S-Sena--”

 

His cock feels like it’s straining, trying to get even harder, and a trickle of liquid starts to drip down from the tip, pooling on his belly. “Nnh--don’t you want to, to--”

 

He can’t think, so he lunges, grabbing at Izumi’s cock (it’s so pretty, just like him, slender and curved and pale even when it’s pink at the tip). “Please?”

 

“Fuck,” Izumi gasps, the way Leo’s fingers feel grabbing at his cock making his eyes nearly cross. He lurches forward, helplessly pulled in by Leo’s touch, thoughtlessly rubbing against his palm. If he was smart, he’d turn Leo over like Arashi had said. Leo touching his cock like that, though, and squirming against his hand, hard as a rock, makes Izumi way less likely to take someone else’s advice when he seems to be on the right track. “Yeah—y-yeah, I do, hold on.”

 

He pulls back, fumbling for the condom that he set aside, ripping the packaging open with shaky fingers. At least he’s rolled these damned things onto Arashi’s dick enough to know what he’s doing, even if it feels weird, especially compared to Leo’s soft, grasping fingers. More lube makes everything slick and dripping, and Izumi grabs for Leo again, pulling him forward as he kneels between his legs, biting at his own lip as his cock nudges against Leo’s hole. “I really wanna see your face when it goes in,” he helplessly admits. Fuck Leo and how he makes him as blunt as _he_ is.

 

“Y-yeah,” Leo groans, unable to think of anything else to say to that when he’s so close to having someone inside of him. Surprisingly, the fear and nerves that have been seizing him don’t seem to be making an appearance now--maybe because this part had never happened? He’d had nightmares about it, but it never _had_ gotten this far, happened this way, so all his mind is on Izumi now, on trying to get more of what he’s feeling. The slick head of Izumi’s cock at his hole makes him whine, and grab at the sheets, utterly aware that he doesn’t know what he’s doing or how to help. The fingers had felt incredible, but this feels too big to be real, too blunt and thick to make it inside of him. “M-my face is here, Sena. Look at it, and come on...I’m burning...”

 

It has to be someone _else_ in this situation, not him. The idea that he’d be the one between Tsukinaga Leo’s legs, making him squirm and moan, making him grab at the sheets of his bed like he’s going to die if he doesn’t hurry up and fuck him…

 

Izumi’s mouth is dry, his chest tight, but somehow, being so on edge makes it better for once when he grips at his cock, guiding it against Leo, pushing it inside with a breathless, eager groan of effort.

 

It sinks in easier than Izumi thought it would, with the head of his cock only catching for a moment against that tight, slick hole, and Izumi’s breathing stops. His lips part, cheeks hot as his fingers desperately slide up to grab at Leo’s thighs, then hips, steadying himself as he arches forward helplessly between Leo’s legs, _needing_ to be inside once he’s felt that tight, hot pressure around his cock. His eyes flick upward, watching Leo’s face, and his cock twitches, fingers trembling. “Is it—Ou-sama, you feel…“ _So fucking good I can’t even say it, fuck._ “Y-you can hold onto me, take a deep breath, I’ve got you—“

 

Leo’s entire world narrows to the spot where Sena Izumi is sinking into him. Everything is tight, hot, full in a way that makes his teeth clench, his hands fist in the sheets, his eyes squeeze tightly shut as Izumi rocks in deep, actually _inside_ of his body. This is a whole other level than them rubbing and stroking against a wall or in the shower--this is raw, this is carnal, this is something more mindblowing and _real_ than he could have anticipated, and his voice spikes into high, musical notes, almost a song, a snatch of a melody that he loses the next second, reformulating it the next moment.

 

It’s too tight, honestly, but he rocks down anyway, because he wants it more than it hurts, wants Izumi _in him_ , wants more of the tight, full pressure heating him from the inside. The idea of holding Izumi sounds good, but his hands are locked in the sheets, and he just leans up and bites Izumi’s shoulder instead, stopping just short of drawing blood.

 

The sudden, sharp shock of pain amongst pleasure too good to seem real makes a sharp hiss escape through Izumi’s teeth, his eyes rolling back into his head when he thoughtlessly grabs at Leo’s waist, dragging him down those last few centimeters to bury his cock inside completely. Izumi sags forward, panting against Leo’s hair, the sharpness of those teeth combined with how _good_ Leo feels wrapped around his cock making his vision blur. “Ou-sama,” he rasps, his own thighs trembling as he lurches up onto his knees, forcing Leo’s body to bend with him, to give him more leverage to fuck him. “It’s…it’s good, right? God, _you_ feel good…” 

 

Leo’s legs flail a bit, but he has no purchase at this angle and in this position, no way to pull Izumi in or halt him for a moment, but thankfully, the pace is a good one, with Izumi rocking into him gently, bending him however he likes. Sheets press into his upper back, where all of his weight rests, and he lets out a sharp few breaths, grinding down onto Izumi. “Sena,” he breathes, and loses his train of thought, wanting to tell him it feels good--that tight cramping pressure is starting to fizzle into slick hot pleasure, Izumi’s cock dragging it into him with every tense thrust. “Sena, Sena...just there...”

 

Leo might not be _quite_ as flexible as he is, but he’s still pretty fucking good, and being able to bend him and pull him and grind in deeper with each thrust makes Izumi want to do it harder. His cock throbs inside, and Izumi’s skin prickles and shivers every time Leo rocks back against him, just as eager to keep feeling good as he is.

 

The _problem_ is looking at Leo’s stupid, pretty face, flushed and twisted up in pleasure.

 

Izumi can’t stand it. His breath hiccups, caught in his throat as he shoves forward, digging his hands into the mattress next to Leo’s head as he grinds in harder, hiking one of those lean legs up and over his shoulder. “Ou-sama,” he helplessly groans, his fingers trembling as he drags them over Leo’s cock, desperately grateful to find him still hard, dripping onto his stomach. _Good, thank god, he likes this as much as I do._ “Fuck, you’re…”

 

Just one touch from Izumi when Leo is overstimulated, on-edge, stuffed full and gasping for air, is more than he needs. Izumi’s cock rubs up against him _just right_ , just as his fingertips catch under the head, and he turns his head, biting at his own hand to keep himself from yelling too loudly. It doesn’t do much to muffle the sound, and he looks down as a wave crashes through his body, bringing sensations so unlike any he’s felt before. His cock is spilling, but not like he’s ever seen, a steady trickle of thin white liquid dripping all over his belly, draining him dry instead of firing off all at once, making him feel wrung out and shudderingly empty.

 

He collapses back onto the bed, whimpering, overwhelmed, grabbing shakily for Izumi’s face. “I wish you hadn’t worn the condom,” he whispers suddenly, not knowing where the words are coming from, just that he _needs_ to say them.

 

Oh. Fuck.

 

Those words make it feel like his spine melts, considering how suddenly and hard Izumi comes. “Fuck, fuck, _fuck_ ,” he whimpers, gasping for a full breath as he sags down into Leo’s hands, his arms trembling underneath his weight as he tries to brace himself and keep from just dropping down on top of Leo entirely. That’s not fair, not at all, not when now he can’t stop shaking and every breath Leo breathes feels like it’s still connected to _his_ cock, making Izumi shiver and twitch every second or so. “D..don’t say shit like that, you’re…” He swallows, thinks about it a bit more, about how if he’d just been a little bit less thorough and had forgotten the condom, Leo would be even slicker inside and—Izumi groans, squeezing his eyes shut. “You’re not playing fair, fuck…”

 

Leo’s lashes rise slowly, sweeping up as he looks at Izumi’s face, and he remarks, “You liked that idea too, huh, Sena?”

 

It’s easier to think of that than of how his body is trembling, feeling as if he’s not sure he’ll ever be able to breathe easily again. Izumi is still so thick and intrusive inside of him, and it stings, but he’s strangely loathe to ask him to pull out. It feels right, somehow, even if it’s not entirely pleasant anymore.

 

“Uh huh.” Izumi buries his face into the sweaty skin of Leo’s shoulder, unable to look Leo in the eye. Normally, the idea would disgust him—Arashi suggested it once, flippantly, and Izumi had refused to even blow him without a condom in revenge—but when _Leo_ says it…

 

Izumi sucks in a sharp breath, willing his body to calm down. He’s probably just overstimulated, but every time he fucking _moves_ , he shivers and spasms anew. “…Sorry,” he mumbles, slowly forcing himself to sit back, easing Leo’s legs into a more comfortable position. He’d pull out, but sometimes _he_ likes this kind of thing at least for a couple of minutes after, and Leo isn’t trying to squirm away just yet. “Was it okay, at least? Geez, Ou-sama, you come a _lot_.”

 

Leo reaches up, grabbing Izumi’s head and pulling him down, pressing a shaky kiss to his lips before flopping his head back down, arms wrapped around Izumi’s upper back in a determined cuddle. “It was a lot like I thought it would be. Good because it was Sena, definitely. I love you.”

 

“Ugghh, we’re gonna stick together, c’mon, have mercy,” Izumi half-heartedly complains, resisting the cuddle for barely a second before he flops down, intent on squishing Leo instead. “Love you, too,” he quietly says against Leo’s hair. If it’s Leo, it’s a _lot_ easier to be honest.

 


	5. Chapter 5

Izumi can’t remember the last time his routine took such a drastic swerve, but he supposes Leo is entirely to blame.

 

Passing out after sex and cuddling isn’t…normal for him. Neither is sleeping that solid 14 hours without interruption, until the sun rolls into the sky again, pouring dimly through his windows to illuminate the early morning.

 

_Fuck._

 

He and Leo are still both naked in bed, and the sounds of his parents downstairs can easily be heard. Panic washes over Izumi, his heart racing, and he lies there for a moment, Leo still sprawled out over and next to him, staring at the ceiling, trying to figure out what to do.

 

_Fuck, fuck, fuck._

 

“Ou-sama,” he finally manages to whisper, twisting over onto his side, giving Leo a gentle shake. It’d be one thing for Leo to meet his parents under normal circumstances, but right now… “Ou-sama, my parents are home, so be quiet, okay? We’ll head down after they leave.”

 

Leo blinks up sleepily, then slowly stretches out, toes wriggling. He winces slightly at the strange sensations down South, rolling onto his side to face Izumi. “You’re supposed to say ‘Good Morning, Ou-sama,’” he chides gently, reaching up to tap a fingertip to Izumi’s nose.

 

“Izumi-chan!” A woman’s wavering voice calls from downstairs, then continues in English. “Papa and I are going out! I’ll leave a note for your teachers if you need to be late today. Love you!”

 

A moment later, the sounds of the TV turn off, a door opens and shuts, and everything is quiet from below.

 

Izumi heaves a long sigh of relief, and slowly flops down again, burying his face down into Leo’s loose hair. “Sorry,” he mutters. “I didn’t want to deal with them first thing in the morning. Too much.” He hesitates, then adds, skin flushing, “Good morning, Ou-sama. D’you want me to like…run you a bath or something?”

 

Leo nods slowly, reaching up to wrap his arms around Izumi and pull him close. “Yes, you need to run me a bath. And go get me some food, I think. I’ll eat in the bath.”

 

“That’s dumb,” Izumi exasperatedly says, but he’s already resigned to the idea all the same. “Let me go so I can go run it, then. What do you like to eat in the morning? I’ll cook.”

 

Leo grabs Izumi tighter for a moment, kissing his cheek soundly, then lets him go with a laugh. “Surprise me. I like grains, and proteins, and fats!”

 

“ _God_ , of course you do,” Izumi bemoans, slowly dragging himself out of bed and grimacing at how stiff he feels. That doesn’t need to last. “I’m gonna go turn the hot water on for you, give it a minute and it’ll be ready, okay?”

 

He slips into the bathroom, grabbing a clean uniform out of the closet on the way, and peers blearily into the mirror. Well, aside from his neck and shoulders being a little chewed up, he doesn’t look _horrible_ for skipping out on his evening skin routine. Izumi dresses quickly, leaving his jacket off for now, and turns the bath on, letting it start to fill up while he washes his face and fixes his hair.

 

Leo still hasn’t even begun to roll out of bed by the time he leaves the bathroom, and Izumi rolls his eyes, ignoring that as he heads out of his room and back downstairs. The lights are off, and that’s a huge source of relief as he heads to the kitchen, flipping on the overhead light and cracking his neck with a wince. Cooking for Leo, his king, his _boyfriend_ , that’s not worrisome or _anything._

 

Suddenly, the lights flicker on, and Izumi’s parents look up from where they sit at the table, eyebrows raised. His mother leans in, beaming. “So, when do we get to meet him?”

 

Izumi barely stifles a shriek, bolting a half-step back. “What the fuck!”

 

His father sighs patiently. “Language, Izumi.”

 

“Sorry, sorry, I’m sorry—you said you were gone for the day, why are you—“ Fuck. This is terrible and his life is over. “You’re being so nosy, stop it already!”

 

“I went in to your room last night to bring you those truffles you like so much from Hotel Chocolate,” Sena Maya says patiently, and pushes across a tray, already made up with two plates of food (complete with rabbit-ear apple slices and a flower in a tiny vase). “I thought you’d notice I put a blanket over you.”

 

Mortified. That’s the only word that comes to mind, and Izumi slowly leans down over the kitchen counter to bury his face down into his arms. “No. Noo, Mama, that’s the worst.”

 

“He goes to your school, doesn’t he? Is he from a good family?” Sena Takuya, looking fully the part of an older, retired Japanese businessman, is obviously unfazed by his son’s theatrics. “Were you really going to make us wait to meet him?”

 

“Why are you so interested?” Izumi hates how his voice immediately starts to break and his eyes automatically start to tear up, but this is fairly par for the course, and there’s not much use in fighting it. “You’re asking too many questions, why are you both _like_ this!”

 

“Honey, when you talk like that, it hurts my feelings,” Maya says reproachfully. “We talked about hiding things from us with your therapist last time. Did you want to go again, next time we’re in Hawaii?”

 

“No, I don’t!” Izumi slams a hand down onto the counter as he straightens up, huffing, already red-eyed and sniffling. He takes a deep breath, trying to calm down and not shout, but it’s hard when his legs already threaten to start trembling out from underneath him in the delightful beginnings of a panic attack. “I’m not trying to hurt your feelings, I—Mama, this kinda stuff is personal, it’s…it’s embarrassing when you talk about it.” His lower lip wobbles. “And when Papa asks that many questions, I—“

 

“It’s stressful, I know, I know, got it, I’m backing off.”

 

Tears spring immediately back into Izumi’s eyes. “And now you’re interrupting me!”

 

Takuya shuts his mouth and raises his hands in total surrender.

 

“Sena!” Comes a voice from upstairs. “The bath is flowing over, how do I stop it?”

 

“I’ll go,” Maya says, standing eagerly, obviously wanting the chance to meet the elusive ginger upstairs.

 

“No!” Izumi bolts, immediately making a beeline for the stairs. “I’m dealing with it, it’s fine!”

 

Takuya turns to stare at his wife as their son disappears back upstairs. “Did I make it worse? I think I made it worse.”

 

Izumi, making a valiant effort not to start hyperventilating, bursts back into his bedroom, stalking over into the bathroom and turning the water off without even looking at Leo. Throwing himself down onto the wet bathroom floor isn’t happening, but disappearing again to throw himself facedown into bed absolutely is, and he breathes a long, shaky exhale, contemplating how to suffocate himself with his pillow.

 

“Sena? Oi, Sena!” There’s an element of panic in Leo’s voice now, and warm hands suddenly slide around Izumi’s waist from behind, a naked chest pressed against his back. Quietly, Leo asks, “Did I make something worse?”

 

Izumi’s head shakes fervently back and forth. “My parents tricked me,” he sniffs, not lifting his face. “T…they’re home and they cornered me to ask me about you and I really, _really_ hate when they’re this nosy, it’s not like I wasn’t gonna introduce you, but like this…”

 

Leo squeezes, hard enough to lift Izumi off the ground for a moment despite his apparently delicate frame. “Want me to jump out the window? I bet I’ll make it.”

 

“Don’t be stupid.” Izumi sniffs again, letting Leo squeeze and dangle him however he wants. “Mama even made you breakfast. Apparently…apparently she came in last night when we were sleeping, ugh.”

 

Leo blinks, and gently sets Izumi back down. “Yeah? I wonder what position we were in. Sena, you’re very clingy when you sleep. I’m gonna be in your bed a lot from now on, wahaha!”

 

“I’m not clingy, you’re…you’re warm, I can’t help it,” Izumi mutters, too overstimulated already to bother trying to silence Leo’s laughter. “Ugh, just…just get dressed, we might as well get this over with.” He hesitates, adding with great resignation, “Mama’s Japanese kinda sucks, by the way. Like, she can understand it all right, but speaking it is kinda…eh. She wasn’t born here.”

 

Leo immediately pictures a tall, curvy blonde, and his eyes widen. “No wonder Sena is a model,” he murmurs, letting go fully and starting to put on his clothes. It takes dramatically longer than it does for him to take them off, even though he only puts on his trousers and undershirt. “What should I speak?”

 

“I mean, she’ll be thrilled if you try to speak English, but you don’t _have_ to.” Izumi leans over his vanity to peer critically at his reflection, which is just mostly red-rimmed eyes. At least he’s been blessed with being able to cry without getting ugly and blotchy. “She’s still like, two-thirds Japanese, and my dad’s full, from Japan. _He’s_ the worst, he started asking me a million questions and I hate that.”

 

Mentally, Leo revises his image of Izumi’s mother from a leggy blonde to a woman with three parents, one of whom is likely an alien. He finds one sock, puts it on, can’t find the other, and shrugs at it, leaving the foot bare. “Do they know my name and everything, or should I make up a fake one?”

 

“I didn’t tell them anything yet.” Izumi turns away, glances around the room, and finds Leo’s other sock tossed aside near the closet. He throws it over and takes a deep breath to calm himself further. “You don’t have to make anything up. They…it’s not like they don’t know about me, so it’s…whatever, you know? I told them I only liked guys a couple of years ago.”

 

“In a song?” Leo asks knowingly.

 

“No, you stupid king. Not everyone confesses shit with songs, I wasn’t even singing back then.”

 

Leo thinks for a moment, then shrugs. “I can’t imagine bringing something like that up without a song. So, I should introduce myself!” With that, he bounds out the door and down the stairs, one foot still bare. “Hello, Sena Mama, Sena Papa! I’m Tsukinaga Leo, Izumi’s sweetheart!”

 

Izumi longs for death. Then again, this is the kind of shit his mother _eats up_ , so maybe it’s for the best. He follows after far more slowly, opening his mouth to say something—anything, at this point—but promptly gives up, just sighing.

 

Sena Takuya’s eyebrows lift sky high, and he glances briefly to his wife before looking back to Leo. “Tsukinaga-kun? Izumi-chan, isn’t that the name of your—“

 

“ _Yes_ , he’s the leader of our unit,” Izumi moodily replies, restless and nervous and not at all liking this.

 

“Well, it’s very good to finally meet you,” Takuya says. “We’ve heard a great deal about you—“

 

“Papa, can you _not?_ ”

 

“It’s a compliment, isn’t it?”

 

Leo bows carefully and properly, back straight, every inch the (one-sock-less) brave Knight leader. He even moves to the side and kisses Maya’s hand, making her giggle a little nervously, charmed. “My gratitude to the both of you for raising such a brave, talented, reliable son. I couldn’t have asked for better.”

 

“Oh, my,” Maya says, covering her mouth with one hand. “Izumi-chan, he’s charming! Why didn’t you introduce us sooner?”

 

The realization that he has to speak English with _Leo_ around—and sound way more fluent than he fakes to not be in school, greatly for the sake of tormenting Tsukasa—dawns on Izumi, and he fails to suppress a wince. “Because he’s actually the worst,” Izumi mutters underneath his breath, folding his arms across his chest before he adds more loudly, resigned, in English, “We haven’t been dating for _that_ long…”

 

“Your English is so good!” Leo’s eyes are wide, and delighted. “I’m going to write you parts with a _th_ in it from now on! I don’t know what you said, but I love how fluid you were in saying it!”

 

“He seems nice,” Maya says with a smile, sitting back in her chair. “Ah, Leo-kun...” Her Japanese is slow and accented, but careful. “I hope to be meeting your family soon.”

 

“I said we haven’t been dating for that long,” Izumi wearily translates, grabbing Leo by the arm to tug him to the table. Maybe setting breakfast down in front of him will make this all come to an end sooner. “Mama,” he begins, switching back to English again so that Leo can’t follow along as easily, “please don’t be weird about it and turn everything into an engagement thing.”

 

“I think it’s perfectly natural to want to meet his family,” Takuya tries to add diplomatically.

 

“Please,” Izumi groans, setting down Leo’s plate in front of him and trying not to climb underneath the kitchen table.

 

“But you’ve never been this serious about a boy before, of course we’re happy for you!” Maya smiles, and pushes the food closer to Leo before switching back to Japanese. “Do your parents know about your, ah....your like-boys, gay? If you need help, we have therapist friend--”

 

“Thank you very much,” Leo says, interrupting only because it looks like Izumi is about to die. “I will remember this for the future. Mmmm, this is so tasty! Clearly, Sena’s Mama is the best cook in the world!”

 

Irritation flares sharp and abrupt in Izumi’s mind. Shouldn’t that be enough of a compliment to make them back off now? Izumi sighs, flopping down into his own chair and pulling out his phone, moodily flipping through messages he doesn’t care about in order to look busy. _Never been this serious about a boy before, fuck off._

 

Takuya, at least, is somewhat quicker to give his son distance—but not without one last push. “Maybe we can invite his parents over for dinner at some point,” he settles upon as a suggestion, and then, the final prodding—“Izumi, make sure you eat breakfast.”

 

“I’ll get around to it, Papa, don’t worry.” If he eats, he’s probably going to die.

 

“Maybe we should leave them to it,” Takuya finally says, rising and attempting to coax Maya into doing the same. “Mama already left you that note so you can be late, but don’t abuse it.”

 

Maya stands, and presses a firm lipstick kiss to Izumi’s cheek before brushing her hair back behind her ears. “Yes, yes, be good, my beautiful boy. Leo-kun, I am glad to meet you. Come on, Papa.”

 

The second they’re gone, Leo starts eating Izumi’s breakfast as well, with his fingers. “They’re very nice. Can I finish this in the bath?”

 

“Why are you so fixated on eating it in the bath?” Izumi exasperatedly asks, shoving his plate over in front of Leo all the same. He flips his phone to its camera, scowling at the lipstick on his cheek, and scrubs it off gingerly with the back of his hand. “If you’re quick about it, fine. You don’t have to let them meet your parents, by the way.”

 

Leo almost explains himself--he’s usually rushed for time, and the bathwater is getting cold--but Izumi obviously just wants to grumble. So he takes the plate and Izumi by the arm, hauling him upstairs. “You should get in with me. And feed me!”

 

“I’m—listen, you know we still have school, right?” Izumi half-heartedly protests, letting Leo drag him. For someone so small, he’s _awfully_ strong, what the hell. “Ugh. Whatever, fine. I didn’t need to know about this weird desire of yours, but okay, fine.”

 

Leo shudders quickly out of his clothes, then jumps back in the bath, taking the plate with him. “It’s pretty cold,” he says without much judgment. “But your mom is a great cook!”

 

Rather than jump into the tub, Izumi opts to sit on the edge, staring judgmentally down at Leo. “If you had waited a second, I would’ve drawn a hot bath for you,” he says. “Before we go to class today, at least let me put some makeup over those hickeys.”

 

“Ooh. About that.” Leo swallows an apple slice nearly whole, to give his digestive system something to really work on. “I think I just won’t go. Maybe all week, if these really bruise!”

 

“Are you trying to get held back a year?” Izumi bluntly asks, folding his arms across his chest. “You already dropped down a class.”

 

“Wahaha, you miss me, Sena?” Leo teases, sliding the plate to the floor now that it’s empty. “But if we were in the same class, that might be a sign of favoritism!”

 

 _Of course I miss you, dumbass._ The words won’t quite leave his tongue. Izumi’s lips purse, and he drums his fingers against his arms. “I dunno how that’s favoritism, but whatever. With you and Kuma-kun both gone, 3-A really sucks. Get out before you catch a cold already, I don’t have time to deal with you when you’re sick.”

 

Leo slides down, dunking his head for a moment before finally standing, unplugging the bathtub and letting the water swirl away. He climbs out of the tub, and unrepentantly grabs Izumi in a hug before he can get away, wetting his clothes in a Leo-shaped smudge. “Now you’re dyed in my colors, Sena.”

 

Izumi squawks, staring down at his uniform, a mix aghast and in spite of himself, amused. “Asshole,” he grouses, climbing to his feet and throwing a towel at Leo’s head. “That’s the kinda stuff you say when you’re coming on someone’s face, not getting them wet from a bath. Get dressed, I’m not being any later than this, that’s the rule.”

 

“Rules, rules, rules,” Leo grumbles, toweling off. “Rules about getting dressed, rules about coming on your face. Too many rules! You weren’t like this as a cute first-year, I feel lied to!”

 

Izumi strides past him, smacking Leo’s ass. “Yeah, well, no one told me you were gonna get abducted by aliens either, so we’ve all been lied to. Welcome to the real world.”

 

“I refuse to accept something like that. Down with the real world! Up with wild dreams!”

 

“Yes, yes, Ou-sama, whatever you say. Now put your pants back on, I’m ready to go.”

 


	6. Chapter 6

_Three Years Ago_

 

It starts with a simple text.

 

**To: Yuu-kun**

**Subject: i’m back~**

**let’s meet up for lunch this week, ok? i miss you**

 

And then another, a day later.

 

**To: Yuu-kun**

**Subject: oiiii**

**don’t ignore meeee your sempai’s all jetlagged but he still wants to see you, text me baaack**

 

And another, two days later.

 

**To: Yuu-kun**

**Subject: ???**

**did i do something to make you mad?**

 

And another, before dread starts settling in the pit of Izumi’s stomach.

 

**To: Yuu-kun**

**Subject: please?**

**yuu-kun i hope you aren’t mad at me? i don’t know what i did? i’ll see you at work today, i hope**

 

When Yuuki Makoto is not at work, Sena Izumi can no longer shake the feeling of unease that seems to drape over every inch of his body. His manager doesn’t even seem interested when he asks about it, merely shrugging and shuffling papers behind her desk. “Oh, Yuuki-kun? He quit.”

 

Izumi stares back at her, feeling his heart thud so hard that he’s sure she can hear it. “He…quit? Why?”

 

“There apparently was an incident of some kind? I don’t know the details, but yes, he quit. Now, let’s see, I have a few openings this coming week—“

 

Izumi is already gone, tasting panic in the form of bile on his tongue.

 

It’s a full thirty minute train ride to Makoto’s neighborhood, and another few blocks from the station to get to his apartment. With the sun setting by the time he climbs the four flights of stairs, Izumi’s mind won’t stop looping—what kind of incident? Why won’t Makoto talk to him? It was a mistake to tell his parents anything, wasn’t it, and an even bigger mistake to _enjoy_ their reaction and acceptance, especially if Makoto must have been faking it this whole time or so nervous that maybe someone else found out and—

 

Izumi stumbles to the door and both rings the door bell and hurriedly knocks on it, stuffing his hands back into his coat pockets after the fact, staring anxiously at it as he waits for it to open.

 

The sound of the doorbell is startling enough that Yuuki Makoto drops his chopsticks into his styrofoam ramen bowl, flinching away when the hot liquid splashes up against his glasses. He hisses, hoping that his squeak of surprise wasn’t audible through the door--was it? Does he have to answer? His heart is thudding a thousand meters a minute, hard enough that it hurts his ribcage, hard enough, he thinks, to bruise, and he has to cough a little to get it back on track.

 

The fear doesn’t subside. His mouth tastes like ash instead of cheap ramen, and even knowing who it probably is ( _must be, you know it’s him, you owe him an explanation_ ) doesn’t settle his nerves--because it isn’t really better, in the end, that it’s probably his sempai. He’s not ready to see Izumi--not at all, not even ready to leave his room yet--and his eyes still hurt-- _“You have such pretty eyes, Makoto-chan--let me see them up close--don’t you dare run away from me--”_

 

His stomach lurches, and Makoto claps a hand over his mouth when the cold shivery twisting in his belly starts again. If Izumi is outside...well, he won’t leave, not without an explanation. It isn’t as if Makoto hasn’t picked up his phone a hundred times in the last week, opening it to Izumi’s number and knowing in his heart that he has no idea what to say.

 

Stupid. Coward. If he hadn’t been a stupid coward, he’d have dealt with this before--claimed to be sick--claimed to be dead--actually been dead, it sounds so easy--but he hadn’t, and now he has to deal with Izumi face to face. Horribly, he hopes that Izumi has already heard something. Dealing with his happy, optimistic face will hurt his heart too much to bear.

 

It takes another five rings of the doorbell before he actually makes himself get up, dragging himself to the door. His hand shakes so badly that he almost misses the knob, and has to try again, unlocking the latch at last, unable to look up when he opens the door. He can tell from the smell of Izumi’s cologne that he’s right about who it is, and bites the inside of his cheek to keep from crying. “H-hi.”

 

Izumi opens his mouth to immediately start on a tirade of scolding, but one look at Makoto’s face makes him shut his mouth again, staring back at him, his brow furrowing in open concern. “Yuu-kun, what the hell,” he mutters, immediately stepping forward to let himself in when it’s apparent Makoto is just going to stand there. “Why haven’t you been answering my texts? I _knew_ I should’ve come over earlier, this whole place is a mess and I heard from work that you quit and—“ He takes a deep breath, trying to sound more worried rather than annoyed and now, _scared_. Makoto doesn’t…look like Makoto should look. He reaches out, gingerly trying to brush Makoto’s bangs out of the way of his face. “Are you okay?”

 

Makoto flinches, sucking in a breath when the touch makes it feel like a thousand icy fingers run up and down his spine, far too invasive, far too possessive. He hiccups when he tries to talk, but the only words that want to come out are _You should have been there, you should have been with me, I needed you--_

 

“I, I just, I don’t...” _Know who I am right now._ “S-sorry. I’m sorry.” It doesn’t sound like his own voice to his own ears.

 

Izumi’s frown deepens, his hand drawing back for a split second when Makoto flinches. That’s not right. That’s definitely not right. “Oi,” he lowly presses, stepping closer. “What’s going on? I’m gone for a week and you start acting like this. Are you mad at me?”

 

Makoto backs up so far he falls onto his ass, and laughs nervously, still not looking Izumi in the face. Izumi can’t see him like this, he _can’t_ , not if he’s still going to care at all. _Get it together, Yuuki. Courage!_ He clears his throat, knowing he has to give _some_ kind of response, and tries to stand up. “Ah, please don’t think I’m not grateful for your assistance so far in the modeling world. I just...don’t think this sort of...environment...” _Body odor, the smell of too much aftershave, a firm hand around his throat, a hand pushing the hair back from his face to see him better--_ “I don’t think it’s f-for me.”

 

“That’s not what I’m asking about, idiot.” Frustration wells up in spite of how he tries to keep it cool, and Izumi’s fists ball at his sides for a moment as he sucks in a sharp breath. “If I did something, just hurry up and tell me already,” he orders, reaching out to grab Makoto’s arm and yank him back to his feet—easier said than done when Makoto is already taller than him, dammit. “Ugh, you’re getting fat and you smell like ramen. If you’re stress eating, it better not be about me. Listen, if you…” He falters, horrified by the sudden, stressed prick of tears to his eyes, but that’s just going to _happen_ , he supposes. “If you quit because you don’t…don’t want to date me, I…”

 

“No!”

 

The word comes out sharp--Makoto had been afraid of this, but his tongue twists into knots whenever he tries to talk--but this is worse than the silence, worse than anything, because it’s _not_ Izumi’s fault, but...

 

He balls his hands into fists at his sides, and forces the words out, even if they’re clumsy and not enough. “I--s-something happened, and I--I don’t...want to go back, it’s not you, you weren’t even there, you were gone and I wanted you to be there but you weren’t--”

 

He claps a hand over his mouth, horrified. He hadn’t thought it was that much of what he was feeling, the betrayal--but hadn’t Izumi said it, the first time they’d met? Hadn’t he promised, “ _I’ll take care of you_ ”? And where was he when Makoto had _needed_ that protection? In Hawaii, with his parents, while his other sempai was--

 

Izumi stares back at him, wide-eyed as he tries to piece together what, exactly, Makoto is upset about. At least he was right about one thing—he shouldn’t have told his parents anything, and then he wouldn’t have _gone_ anywhere. “This…this is all my fault,” he quietly begins, lifting a hand to touch Makoto again, but then dropping it, wary and unsure. “Was it…was it a job? I’ve been telling you, you shouldn’t take the stuff that you don’t like.” He bites at his lower lip, worrying it slowly. “If someone overstepped on a job, I can report it to my agent. Just—I’m back now, Yuu-kun, let me help.”

 

Makoto falls back onto the threadbare sofa, tucking his legs up against his chest to hopefully stop himself from vomiting. “I took a job,” he says quietly, unable to stop himself now that he’s started. “I-I thought...I thought it would be...I was scared, but I thought you’d like it. If I did, if I did the gravure. Like...a surprise. With Miki-san.” Ah, saying his sempai’s name aloud doesn’t burn his throat, but it feels close.

 

It’s impossible to suppress a wince. First of all, the idea that he’s been pushing gravure _so_ much that Makoto would take a job that he didn’t like to please him makes his own stomach twist into knots, and second of all… “Miki-san can be a little handsy,” he diplomatically says, stepping closer, and instead of sitting down next to Makoto, kneels in front of him, trying to get at a better angle to watch his face. _Miki-san can be a little handsy_ is an understatement, but dealing with that kind of thing is part of being a model, at the end of the day. How many times has his ass been slapped or pinched, and how many times have both girls and guys grabbed his face to kiss him when he didn’t want them to? It’s par for the course, and Izumi’s elbows and knees have grown to have spectacular aim because of it. “Is that what happened? Listen, Yuu-kun, that kinda thing…”

 

“Is it so bad that I hate it?”

 

The words are barely a whisper, ashamed and disgusted with himself--what had he done, to provoke that kind of reaction? “I thought...you’d be angrier. That you’d...” Makoto shakes his head. He’d thought Izumi might flip, honestly, and go after Miki-san, and had said nothing to protect him. Now, it feels like he’d been stupid. Of course Izumi doesn’t care _that_ much. It had been nice, to think he’d been wanted so much, desired so much, but at the end of the day, people as beautiful as Izumi don’t really go after people like him, he guesses. Even if he hadn’t really wanted that attention in the first place, it feels oddly cold and sad to know how conditional that attraction had been.

 

Izumi’s head cocks, open confusion washing over his face. “…I mean, I hate it, too, but when you’re a model, that kind of stuff…” _That is not what he wants to hear_ , his mind screams, and one look at Makoto’s face makes that _extremely_ clear. Fuck. He has fucked this up, and Izumi feels that panic start to set in again. “I’ll get him kicked out of the agency,” he says, rapidly changing courses. “Yuu-kun—of course I’m angry, I—“ He lurches up between Makoto’s legs, setting a knee on the couch and reaching for his face. “I _said_ I wanted you to be mine, remember?” he earnestly says. “So I’ll deal with it, I’ll protect you. Yuu-kun, I won’t let anyone else touch you.”

 

 _That isn’t it! That isn’t it at all!_ Makoto’s mind is shrieking in fear, but he’s frozen, like he had been last week, just letting Miki drag him into that storage closet, because he’d been too scared of what would happen if he said anything, fought back, made a scene. He rubs at his neck, feeling some of the bruises still smarting there, the sick pool of dread in his stomach even colder. “I just, I don’t think...I’m strong enough for this kind of thing. Sorry. I-I know I...let you down.”

 

Izumi feels that frustration flare up again, and he grits his teeth, something his agent always yells at him about for setting his mouth in a hard, sharp line. “You _are_ , though,” he insists, all but climbing into Makoto’s lap now, because if nothing else is going to get his attention, _that_ will. “You are strong enough. You’re a harder worker than anyone I know—you’re just on the verge of a break, you know? Yuuuuu-kun, come on, perk up.” He reaches up, plucking Makoto’s glasses off by the bridge of them. “Look, you’re so pretty like this, you can’t just throw that away. Onii-chan’s back, yeah? No one’s gonna mess with you again.”

 

Makoto’s heart races so fast it’s surely going to fracture his ribs this time, smash them to powder and escape, ripping his skin to shreds on the way out. Or maybe it’ll just give up like he wants to do, with fear so icy in his veins he can’t even move, not even raise his hands to defend himself, though he tries, he _tries_ , bringing them up to feebly try to fend Izumi off (Izumi isn’t that big, not as tall as Miki, but he’s strong from years of dancing and Makoto isn’t at all). “I-I-I’m sorry, Izumi-san,” he pleads, tongue tied on anything important, anything that _means_ anything, because Izumi probably won’t hurt him but he hadn’t thought Miki would either and he’d been so _wrong_ \--

 

“Why are you apologizing? Oi, Yuu-kun, are you—“ Izumi stops short, stilling long enough to feel how Makoto trembles, how those feeble touches are actually attempts to push him _away_ , and Izumi hesitates visibly. Did he fuck up so badly that even _he_ isn’t allowed to touch anymore? Or is this just Makoto, typical, nervous Makoto, who has always smiled at his teasing before, even if he hadn’t always reciprocated beyond that, but that was fine, because… “…so if you’re quitting…does that mean you don’t want to go out with me anymore?” His voice is quiet, his hands still.

 

The words won’t come, they won’t _ever_ come. He’d been ready to go through with it before. Izumi is a boy, but he’s pretty, and interested, and so kind--Makoto had liked it, liked the little warm glances they’d shared, liked the way Izumi had looked at him and _only_ him, liked being wanted. It isn’t like men are _gross_ to him, and he’d tried, he’d brought Izumi’s picture with him to bed once and touched himself, forced him to focus on those lithe limbs and stark cheekbones until he’d come over his hand, feeling slightly queasy but oddly gratified. He’d been ready to go through with it, and see Izumi’s happy, smiling face, and know that he’s the reason for it.

 

The one time he’d cried out with Miki was a mistake. He’d been afraid, hurt, and had cried out for Izumi, a broken sob, a plea to be saved. Miki had thought it was about him, that he was the _Onii-chan_ on Makoto’s lips, and Makoto still feels it physically, the way he’d gotten harder, bigger inside him, horribly rougher--

 

Bile rises in his throat, and he claps his hands over his face, shivering, trying to get himself under control, because he’s _not_ back there, Izumi is here, in his face, demanding, not listening, not seeing--shouldn’t he see? Shouldn’t he notice, if he truly _loves_ Makoto so much? _Shouldn’t he have been there?_ “I can’t,” he whispers, raw and broken.

 

Izumi feels all the warmth seep out from his limbs, and numbly, he picks himself off of Makoto’s lap, unable to feel him shake and recoil any longer without feeling sicker and sicker.

 

_This is my fault._

 

_If I hadn’t told anyone—if I had stayed—if I had done anything different, this wouldn’t be happening. It’s my fault, it’s my fault, if I had been here, Yuu-kun would still be Yuu-kun and we—_

 

“I meant what I said.” His voice sounds hollow, unlike himself entirely, and his breath catches up in his chest. “I meant it, Yuu-kun—no one else is allowed to touch you. I’ll kill them if they do. No one ever again—I won’t let it happen, even if you don’t want me.”

 

“Prove it.”

 

It’s maybe the stupidest thing Makoto’s ever said. Why is it he can never find the words he wants, but the ones he’d rather keep silent come immediately? But...it’s all he wants now, for Izumi to protect him, to be his shining Knight--he’s never wanted such a thing before, but he’s thirteen, and terrified, and still aching, and Izumi’s promises sound hollow.

 

“I will.” Izumi rocks on the balls of his feet—aching, he’s aching to get his arms back around Makoto, to pet his hair, to kiss him, tell him it’s all right, he’ll _make_ it all right—but the thought of terrifying him more terrifies _him_ , and he swallows hard, feeling his pulse pounding in his ears. “I will. I swear.” And then he flees, the door shutting loudly behind him, unable to linger a second longer.

 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please take care, this chapter does have a more in-depth scene with questionable consent.

_One Year Ago_

 

Victory is as satisfying as always, no matter how weak the opponent.

 

Ah, but Knights aren’t weak, are they? No, certainly not, not even now, when their numbers have dwindled. It just means the most talented remain, though none of them are as focused, as driven, as _brilliant_ as Tsukinaga Leo.

 

It’s why destroying him was the most fun of all.

 

Soaked with sweat, out of breath, his vision spinning, Tenshouin Eichi still feels more alive than he has in months. Every part of his body aches as he stumbles backstage, trembling, clinging to the wall for a moment as his head spins. _I did it, I did it, I won._

 

If this isn’t the beginning of something great, nothing is.

 

Sakuma Ritsu looks exhausted, sweat dripping from his nose, where as Sena Izumi looks furious, face flushed and hands trembling as he more or less props Leo up, obviously seconds from just scooping him up off of his feet entirely. “Tsukinaga-kun,” Eichi breathes, trying not to laugh, but he’s so giddy that it’s difficult. “Tsukinaga-kun, a word? Ah, you were magnificent, weren’t you?”

 

_Tenshouin._

 

The name is enough to strike fear into the hearts of most, but Tsukinaga Leo has never been one of those, until today. It isn’t truly _fear_ that he feels, but resentment, the heaviest dislike, and he draws himself up even if every limb is quivering, even if he isn’t sure he wants to look Izumi and Ritsu in the eye. “Go on,” he urges the others. “Tell our sempai I’m sorry, if they’re still here. I’ll catch up.”

 

“Nothing to be sorry for, Ou-sama,” Ritsu mutters rebelliously, but he sways anyway on his feet. “Mnnn, this is why I didn’t want to get up today...come on, Secchan...”

 

Izumi lingers, tense and glaring at Eichi, instinctive dislike creeping in that makes it difficult for him to move. “Ou-sama, you don’t have to talk to him.”

 

“Don’t be a poor sport,” Eichi tsks, stumbling off the wall to step closer. “This won’t take long. Then you can have Tsukinaga-kun back and go plot your next move, hmm?”

 

There’s palpable hesitation on Izumi’s face, and it’s only after another long, hard stare that he budges. “Fine,” he mutters, shoving his sweaty hair out of his face. “Don’t take too long, Ou-sama.”

 

“That’s a cute nickname,” Eichi remarks. “Especially considering you aren’t any sort of a king now.”

 

“A king will always be a king,” Leo says around clenched teeth. In private, he doesn’t have to be strong for his Knights, but he has to at least save face in front of himself, in front of Tenshouin who had turned his words, his precious songs against him. “As long as he has subjects who rely on his leadership.”

 

More quietly, he says, “I didn’t know you were so afraid of Knights, that you had to use such a dirty trick.”

 

“Hmm? What’s dirty about it?” Eichi’s smile remains steadfast, and he reaches forward, snatching up Leo’s wrist into his grasp. “Everything was bought and paid for. It’s not like I stole something to perform with. Ahh, you look nervous, should we continue talking in my dressing room?”

 

Leo looks around furtively. It isn’t like he wants to be alone with Tenshouin--far from it--but neither does he want to have this conversation here and now, so he nods, just once. “Nothing more to say, though.” And he’s so tired he feels like he might fall over, too tired to resist Eichi’s seemingly iron-clad grip on his wrist. “You’re awfully strong for someone dying.”

 

“Maybe winning has given me strength,” Eichi cheerfully replies, and drags Leo after him, unconcerned with how he stumbles. The room is empty, but even so, it’s barely suited for one person to be within, let alone two. He doesn’t particularly care. “I’m actually surprised that trick worked, Ou-sama-kun. You couldn’t prepare in advance for the inevitable? What a sham of a genius you are after all.”

 

The words don’t usually have much of an effect on Leo’s psyche. Today, seeing his friends wrecked by his own songs--songs that he’d loved, been _proud_ of, that could have glorified his brave Knights and made them shine in the sunlight--they make his shoulders sag. “Knights will return,” he whispers, though the third years will not. They’d left after the Live that was meant to show off just how well the second-years can take care of themselves, how they’ll carry the banner next year.

 

Leo doesn’t feel worthy of carrying anything, right now. He looks around, frowning. “What did you want to say?”

 

“Just that much. Ah, I’m not much of a wordsmith, so maybe it would be better to show you my feelings rather than keep talking…”

 

Eichi moves, one easy stride more than enough to grab Leo and shove him back by a hand on his shoulder, pinning him to the closed door. He reaches down, turning the lock, and leans in, easily a head taller than the other boy and rather relishing it at a time like this. “Knights _better_ return,” he breathes, his eyes glittering. “You’re my favorite.”

 

_What? What?_

 

The action doesn’t make sense--Eichi is trying to fight him? What? Things have never gotten physical between them before, not like _this_ , not with Eichi trying to shove him physically around. Leo isn’t easily intimidated, but he _is_ aware that he’s a lot smaller than Eichi, and the difference feels stark. “Tenshouin,” he mutters, fumbling for the lock and missing it, “you can’t--this is a dirty way to fight--”

 

“Mmn? I’m not fighting.” Eichi’s hand slides down Leo’s arm, gripping and squeezing his wrist as he shoves it back against the door, pinning it there deftly. “I’m having fun,” he murmurs, leaning down and letting his teeth nip into the curve of Leo’s ear. “Good performances—good _opponents_ , they make me like this, you know?”

 

Leo tries to pull away, but it doesn’t work, not when he’s so startled, so confused, and Eichi is so ready for him. Eichi’s mouth (his _mouth??_ ) is on Leo’s ear, and he feels his breath stutter in a stupid, nervous way that doesn’t do anything to tell how much he hates this, does more to say that he’s simply flustered. “T-Ten...shouin...” _This can’t be happening?_

 

Thinking about this exact scenario for _weeks_ does nothing to make Eichi slow down and take his time. His nails bite into Leo’s wrist, his mouth drags down to suck on the side of Leo’s neck, and his breath escapes hot and fast in his eagerness. “My name sounds cute when you say it like that,” he murmurs, pressing forward, shoving his thigh between Leo’s legs, and letting the hard line of his cock press and rub against Leo’s hip. “Ousama-kun…nn, I mean it, you know, when I say you’re my favorite—there’s just… _something_ about you…”

 

Leo doesn’t feel like a genius now. He feels like an idiot, like a numb-tongued wreck, unable to move, unable to fight, unable to do anything but stand there, tense and quivering, letting-- _letting!!_ \--Eichi rub up against him. He can feel the hard bulge of Eichi’s penis against him, but what the hell are you supposed to do when one of your classmates does that? His eyes are wide and blank as he looks up at Eichi, mouth open, no words coming out.

 

This isn’t going to take long.

 

Eichi honestly expected a bit more of…not a struggle, per say, but at least more of Leo squirming and protesting at first. The fact that it’s absent doesn’t detract from what his mind has been coming up with for weeks, though; mostly, it just makes this more real. Leo’s a tense, trembling thing against him, and between that and the scent of his sweat in Eichi’s nose, the realness of how he radiates heat and energy even after such an intense performance—that drives him forward more than anything.

 

His cock aches, and Eichi drags Leo’s hand down, forcing it against the bulge in his pants. Words fail him when those pretty, delicate fingers drag against him, even through clothing, and Eichi’s breath hiccups as his hips grind forward, again and again.

 

His breath escapes as a hot rush when he comes. Not even having the time to unzip himself and free his cock is inconvenient, certainly, but ahh…that doesn’t stop it from feeling good, especially when Eichi allows himself the indulgence of burying his face into Leo’s hair for just a moment, inhaling slow and deep. “Mmn, Ousama-kun…” he purrs, his voice low and content. “This is ‘checkmate’, isn’t it?”

 

Leo thinks, for just a moment, that he can hear something in his mind snap.

 

It sounds like glass breaking in space, he thinks.

 

Like a pane shattered by a tiny bullet--

 

But there’s no gravity--

 

So it doesn’t fall.

 

Not yet.

 

The glass is shattered--

 

Still in place--

 

Looking normal--

 

He gulps.

 

 _Checkmate_.

 

Suddenly his body is free and he can move, grabbing for the door and thumbing the lock open, fleeing with an off-center wet spot on his pants.

 

 


	8. Chapter 8

“Things must really be going well with Ou-sama,” Arashi says over an extremely light lunch, leaning back on one hand as he eyes Izumi’s portion hungrily. They both pack their own, of course, instead of relying on the school to supply proper (lean) nutrition. Honestly, this is the only time he’s able to _see_ Izumi lately, since all of his time is spent with _Ou-sama, Ou-sama, Ou-sama_. “You’ve been a lot more calm, you know. And I haven’t heard you talk about the little Trickstar kid in like, a week.”

 

The second it’s out of his mouth, he knows it’s the wrong thing to say. Stupid. The first rule of Knights is that you don’t freaking mention Yuuki Makoto.

 

Izumi nearly drops his chopsticks.

 

Automatically, he counts back to the last time he even tried to talk to Makoto. A week ago? Was it really a week ago? He fumbles frantically for his phone, yanking it out and flipping back through his last messages. _Over a week ago._ His heart sinks. “Fuck,” he mutters, sagging forward. “Fuck, I fucked up. Take my food away from me before I puke.”

 

“No, no, don’t go there, Izumi-chan, don’t--hey, wasn’t Ou-sama wearing a cute shirt today?” Arashi asks frantically, not even sure if Leo was at school today.

 

“He’s not in class today, shitty okama!” Izumi snaps, shoving the lid back onto his bentou and nearly throwing it into Arashi’s lap before he climbs to his feet. “Ugggh, Yuu-kun’s going to think I forgot about him—“ His attention rapidly switches back to his phone, and the long string of unanswered messages he’s sent Makoto for months on end.

 

**To: Yuu-kun**

**Subject: lunch**

**you should eat with me today, where are you?**

 

“He’ll be happy if you do,” Arashi says with a sigh, finishing Izumi’s lunch without guilt.

 

A moment later, there’s an odd beeping, and Arashi checks his own phone just in case, but no--it’s not his. His eyes are round, and he asks, “Is _that_ what it sounds like when you get a text? Have you ever gotten one before?”

 

**To: Izumi-san**

**Subject:**

**Need to talk to you please?**

 

Izumi’s eyes are huge and sparkling, and his fingers shake, making him nearly drop his phone in his excitement. “Y…Yuu-kun texted me back,” he breathes, his cheeks flushing pink as he _has_ to sit down again, his legs threatening to crumple out from under him if he doesn’t. “He…oh my god. He wants to talk to me, I—“

 

He gulps, nerves hitting him in one, hard swing. “Be cool, Izumi, be cool, maybe this time he won’t hate you,” he whispers to himself, typing hurriedly.

 

**To: Yuu-kun**

**Subject: YES**

**whenever wherever you want just tell me and i’ll be there do you need me to bring anything?? i’m sorry for not texting you yuu-kun i promise i’ll do it at least every day now!**

 

“Are you seriously, seriously talking to yourself aloud when you’re texting him? Are you texting him ‘be cool’ or just saying it?’

 

**To: Izumi-san**

**Subject: ok**

**after school, tennis court?**

 

Izumi whimpers, clutching at his phone for a moment before he summons up the nerve to keep typing. “Can’t fuck it up, can’t fuck it up,” he mutters, biting at his lower lip.

 

**To: Yuu-kun**

**Subject: i’ll be there**

**see you then yuu-kun!!!**

 

He hits send before the compulsion to reassure Makoto that he isn’t bringing the polaroid camera can arise, and then slowly flops sideways, curling up into a ball. “Ah…I can’t believe Yuu-kun texted me…twice, _twice._ He hasn’t texted me in _years_ …”

 

“Hey, I’m a masochist,” Arashi says with a sigh, wadding up the remains of his lunch bag. “Weekly prod for you to tell me what the hell went wrong between the two of you back then. Why’d he quit?”

 

Arashi should know better than to poke at him by now, but when he’s emotionally compromised by _two whole text messages_ , word vomit is the unfortunately, inevitable response. “I asked him out and fucked up. I couldn’t protect him and fucked up. I pushed a guy in front of a car for him and fucked up.” Izumi tilts his head back to stare at Arashi, wide-eyed. “But he’s _talking to me_ again.”

 

Arashi’s eyes go as wide as saucers. He’s asked before, a few thousand times, but has _never_ gotten a response more than a bit of muttering about how Makoto doesn’t understaaaaaand. He blinks slowly, and lets out a breath. “Wow. That’s pretty nuts, you know. Like...whoa. I guess secretly I always thought you were overreacting.”

 

“I’m _not._ ” Izumi sits up abruptly, whirling around to look at Arashi directly. “ _Everything_ was my fault,” he insists, staring at his friend intently. “If I hadn’t left him alone, nothing would have happened, but I fucked up and he’s the one that’s had to pay for it. I’d be his Knight if he’d let me, but he _won’t_ —until now, maybe? Maybe he’s finally coming around, maybe he can see how much I love him, maybe he’ll call me Onii-chan again…”

 

Arashi snatches Izumi’s phone, thumbing it open skeptically. “Need to talk to you please. After school, tennis court.” He shuts it, then rolls his eyes. “You think you _might_ be overreacting just a little? I’m not coming to stop you if you decide to jump in front of a train.”

 

“You don’t know Yuu-kun the way I do,” Izumi insists, snatching his phone back immediately. “He _never_ asks for anything! The fact that he’s asking to see me means more than you could ever know. Ahh, maybe he finally wants to leave Trickstar once and for all, I bet Ou-sama would let him join Knights if I asked…”

 

“Wow, cool! And Kunugi-sensei and I are getting married tomorrow!”

 

“Fuck you!” Izumi hauls himself back to his feet, scowling. “Can’t you be happy for me for five seconds?”

 

Arashi sighs, and pulls out his makeup kit, touching up his cheekbones. “Sorry, sorry. I just don’t want you to get your hopes up for nothing. How sure are we that this isn’t Isara planning to hit you over the head when you show up?”

 

“I’ll dropkick that kid,” Izumi bluntly says. “Wouldn’t be the first, won’t be the last. Whatever, I gotta go, I’m not gonna look like shit if I’m meeting up with Yuu-kun!”

 

Which is why, of course, he arrives sparkling and perfect to the tennis courts after school, trying not to vibrate straight out of his skin. Checking his reflection in the phone a last time, Izumi fidgets, agonizingly nervous. _Don’t fuck it up, don’t fuck it up, don’t be creepy like he always says you are_ —but what isn’t creepy to Makoto these days? Starting that spiral of overthinking makes Izumi want to die, so he shoves it down, trying not to chew a hole into his lip instead.

 

It probably shouldn’t feel like a relief to see that Izumi shows up, just when he’s called. But something deep inside of Makoto _is_ glad, and he waves awkwardly, hoping that Izumi at least won’t try to touch him this time. It’s been so long, after all, and they’d never been _dating_ , it’s just _weird_ that Izumi acts like he has the right...

 

He shuffles closer, hands in his pockets. “Hi, Izumi-san,” he says quietly, stopping about a meter and a half away.

 

Izumi resists with every bit of willpower in his body not to bolt closer and embrace Makoto as tightly as he wants to. It _hurts_ , watching the nervousness on Makoto’s face, clearly expecting him to do exactly that. Maybe if he doesn’t, Makoto will relax and hug _him_ for a change. “Yuu-kun,” he breathes, relieved that this wasn’t some kind of a prank. It would be terrible for Arashi to be right about anything. “Yuu-kun, are you okay? Nothing happened, right?” He steps closer—hopefully not too close? God, he doesn’t know. “It’s…you haven’t texted me in awhile, but if you need anything, you know I’ll do it.”

 

“Was it you?” Makoto asks bluntly, eyes intent, urgent, behind his glasses. “Miki-san is in the hospital. Someone hit him with a baseball bat and they’re not sure if he’ll survive.”

 

“Eh?” Izumi blinks, the wind taken out of his sails abruptly. “What? No, I didn’t even know that guy was still around.” _Though I wish I had gotten to him first._ There was a point when he would have eagerly claimed that he had done something like that to try and prove to Makoto that he was that devoted, but—apparently that scares him, too, Izumi has found.

 

With that, Makoto relaxes slightly. “I didn’t want it to be you,” he mutters, looking down at his feet. “I just...Isara-kun’s friend says you’ve been acting really happy lately, and when I heard about Miki-san I was worried you’d go to jail.”

 

Izumi immediately latches onto every positive he can find out of those words. “You’ve been talking about me?” he eagerly presses, leaning forward a bit more, until he’s rocking forward onto his toes, trying not to touch, but wanting to _so_ badly. “Yuu-kun, you were worried about me? I won’t go to jail, I’ve told you before, I’ll always be around to protect you.”

 

“I want you to be happy, Izumi-san,” Makoto says quietly, eyes shut as if this conversation hurts him, when usually talking to Izumi just confuses him. “I was....glad. That he said you were happy. Without me.” There’s more he wants to say, but as usual, his mouth and brain don’t oblige.

 

“…You don’t sound happy.” Izumi can’t stand it another second, which is far longer than he usually can, and he tips forward, reaching out to grasp a Makoto’s hands. “Yuu-kun—Yuu-kun, I’ve been neglecting you, haven’t I? I’m the worst, I know, I’m sorry. I’d be so much happier if I could spend time with you, don’t you know that? Yuu-kun, I love you, don’t look so upset, please?” Grasping at straws, Izumi helplessly blurts out, “Do you want me to take you somewhere nice? I don’t mind, it would be my treat.”

 

Makoto winces, pulling away unhappily, but at the same time, nervous that if he’s too aggressive about it, Izumi will throw himself off something high again, and that’s _way_ more stressful. Besides, almost all of this _is_ his fault, after all.

 

He tries never to remember that week. He tries to pretend he and Izumi had simply drifted apart, that there’s no way to know what happened between them, that no one ever snatched away his oldest friendship and will to live for himself all at once. He tries, more than anything, to forget that he’d ever begged Sena Izumi, in a soft, haggard voice, to prove that he’ll never be pushed away again. He acts surprised when Izumi comes after him, nervous when he gets touchy, because that’s easier, so much _easier_ and less scary than remembering the truth every time.

 

It’s easier, but it’s not fair.

 

So he turns his hands, and squeezes Izumi’s, looking up at him. “If you want,” he offers. He’d been ready to go through with it before, hadn’t he? And Sakuma Ritsu was right. Izumi really isn’t unforgivable.

 

“Eh?” It escapes more as a startled squeak than anything else, and Izumi stares back at Makoto, eyes enormous, startled disbelief written as clear as day over his face. “Y…Yuu-kun…really? You…a-ah…” Makoto had started to pull away, but how he’s squeezing his hands, he’s _holding them back,_ and Izumi doesn’t know what to do with this information that’s making him weak and shivery from both shock and overstimulation. “Really?” he repeats, wanting to make sure he had heard correctly.

 

 _Izumi-san, you don’t look good, you look like you’re freaking out._ But he’s made the choice already, and Makoto gulps, nodding, not pulling away. “It--it’s only fair, isn’t it?”

 

He’s going to die. He’s going to die right here, and that’s the end of it. Izumi’s lower lip wobbles, and even though he tries his hardest not to, but he bursts into tears anyway. “Y-Yuu-kun’s being so n-nice to me,” he sobs, lurching forward and grabbing Makoto around the shoulders, clinging to him. “Yuu-kun, Yuu-kun, I t-thought you hated me, even though I love you so much—t-tell me what I’m doing right this time, please, please, so I can do it again, I want you to be h…happy, you know?”

 

Makoto nods. He might still not understand _why_ Izumi cares so much about him, even these days, but he’s not stupid enough to have missed that it’s true. Slowly, telling himself it’s not scary and not going to hurt him, he shuffles forward, so he’s actually flush up against Izumi’s body. It’s not as scary as he’d thought. It doesn’t make him warm under the skin the way the transfer student hugging him does, but Izumi isn’t a bad person. “Is this going to do it?” he asks, hardly recognizing his own shaky voice. “Will you be...better?”

 

Izumi is actually _certain_ that his heart skips a beat for a moment, and he hiccups, burying his face into Makoto’s shoulder the second that he presses close enough to make it possible. Makoto is so _warm_ , surprisingly solid underneath those hideous, bulky sweaters, and Izumi’s breathy, hiccuping sobs subside—at least, for a moment, until he wakes up and realizes this is all fake. It has to be, after so long. There’s no other explanation, he just doesn’t _understand_ what’s so different about this time than any other time he’s ever talked to Makoto _._ “I…I don’t get what you’re asking,” he whispers, sucking in a ragged breath as he forces himself to lift his head. “Yuu-kun…”

 

“Eh...” Makoto rubs the back of his head, a little chagrined. “I’m...not good at explaining things, heh? You know that, right?” He’s not sure anyone would be good at explaining this--how it felt to be happy, finally, honestly, _happy_ with himself and Trickstar, and to realize with Sakuma Ritsu’s words just how far he’d left Izumi behind, seeing it with his own eyes when Izumi had been so _happy_ , so much more like his old self...

 

But he isn’t, is he?

 

The Izumi he’d known before hadn’t been this manic, teary-eyed creature. He’d been cool, generous, easy with a smile but also easy with a pout, accommodating and a perfectionist, clingy and touchy without being possessive and handsy. This still isn’t quite that guy he’d looked up to. Maybe that guy really is gone. Maybe Makoto himself had killed him, and that thought sinks a stone in his belly. “I just...wanted things back the way they were.”

 

“Yuu-kun…” Izumi sniffs, drawing back enough to _try_ and collect himself, though it doesn’t really work, not when Makoto being so close to him just makes him fluttery and shaky. _Things back the way they were—_ to when, exactly? Three years ago? Four? That’s probably what Makoto means, because that’s before Izumi made a second promise to protect him, and before he’d run back home and locked himself in his bathroom, running the shower for hours, before he’d used more than his nail clippers to scratch a few frustrated lines across his thigh because he’d felt _ugly_ , not because he felt like peeling his skin away and crawling out from inside it because he was such a failure.

 

“I’ve…I’ve never stopped b-being your Onii-chan, though.” _You know that, right? God, how could I have made it more clear?_ Izumi swallows, his hands curling against Makoto’s back. “If you want me to act a certain way, I’ll…I’ll try, but it’s nothing you have to do differently. Just…just look at me, you know? And don’t run away, I don’t know what to do when you’re like that.”

 

“I--”

 

“I...”

 

Makoto, for the first time in years, crumples towards Izumi, not away, his body trembling with frustration more than fear, most of the anger directed in at himself. “It’s my fault,” he grinds out, squeezing his eyes tightly shut. “I just, I wanted...when I came to Yumenosaki I wanted...I didn’t want anyone to know. I didn’t...I didn’t want to remember any of it. And you, you remind me--and the way you act--how could I tell anyone, tell my friends? It’s...I almost believed it. That you were just creepy. B-because then...none of it happened.”

 

Oh. Oh, he’s the _worst._ That becomes readily apparent with every single word, and words choke up into Izumi’s throat, his tongue feeling like lead every single time he thinks he’s got a response down. _If I had just backed off a little bit—if I had paid attention for two seconds, even—_

 

_But Yuu-kun, you wanted me to protect you, I thought—_

 

Izumi swallows hard, his hands shaking as he grips at Makoto’s back, his face partially buried into his shoulder. “I’m…” His voice wavers, his nails biting into Makoto’s back. “I’m sorry. Yuu-kun, I’m so sorry, I—I’ll l-leave you alone if that will make it easier, I…I just thought…you came here, maybe, because you actually wanted to be around me, I’m sorry, I’m really sorry, i-it’s not your fault, I’m the one that fucked up, I didn’t get it.”

 

Some stupid, rebellious part of Makoto wants to yell at Izumi even now--for being threatened, being kidnapped, for every moment when he’d felt so _unsafe_ around Izumi, who’d sworn up and down to protect him--

 

But he doesn’t have the energy. Not when it almost seems...like Izumi is _trying_ , like he’s on the verge of a real understanding. “I didn’t really have a choice,” he admits, and lays his head on Izumi’s shoulder, the way that had felt so natural years ago, before he was afraid all the time. “My grades, ah, aren’t so good, you know? And I remembered you talking about this place...”

 

A wet, hiccuping laugh escapes at that, in spite of how emotionally fried Izumi’s nerves feel. “Yeah, you always were a dumbass in school,” he mutters, lifting a hand from Makoto’s back to mindlessly pet his hair. “I couldn’t believe it, though. After talking so much shit about the modeling industry, you’d come back to this…it’s not any better, y-you know? It’s worse, even.” Exhaling a long, shaky breath, Izumi admits, “I figured you trusted me enough to take care of you again, if you were coming here.”

 

“I...that was part of it,” Makoto admits, feeling small, and cruel, and very stupid. “I figured...that at least, nothing bad would happen to me here...but then when I got here I just...” He shrugs, helpless, wordless, until his breath catches on a sob, and the tears start in force. “I-I’m sorry, Onii-chan!”

 

Izumi feels his legs wobble, and it’s only by the grace of something much better and stronger than him that keeps him upright. “I-it’s okay, it’s okay, Yuu-kun, it’s okay,” he whispers, shoving Makoto’s face down into his neck so he doesn’t have to _see_ Makoto when he cries, and so Makoto can’t see his own face, flushed and red-eyed and maybe _far_ too elated about being called _Onii-chan_ again after so, so long. “I s-swear I’m not mad at you or upset or anything, just—just stop running away from Onii-chan when he’s trying to protect you, okay?”

 

Makoto sniffs hard, nodding, then raises his head, wiping at his red, swollen eyes. “You...you don’t need to protect me anymore, though,” he says, sniffing again and wiping his face on his sleeve. “I’m not thirteen anymore. I’m--I’m becoming my own man, you know? And I’ve got f-friends--so--you don’t, you don’t need to prove it anymore, okay?”

 

The words try to go through one ear and out the other, and Izumi stops them by bluntly saying the first thing that comes to mind. “Your friends are wimps, though.”

 

“Eheh...but there are three of them?” Makoto tries, shrugging again. “And the broadcasting club, and...and you’re graduating, so I’ll just, I’ll get stronger on my own.”

 

Izumi’s lips purse. “You’re trying to kill me,” he mutters unhappily. “You can’t call me ‘Onii-chan’ and then say you don’t want me protecting you anymore. Yuu-kuuun,” he groans, grabbing him by the arms and firmly shaking him. “Why are you so difficult? Even if I back off, it’s not like I’ll stop looking out for you, idiot.”

 

“Ah, but that’s why I’m trying to say you don’t have to?” Makoto tries, though he knows it’s likely hopeless. “I just...Izumi-san, you’re always trying so hard, and Sakuma Ritsu-kun said you’ve been a lot happier lately, so I just thought...? That maybe if I let you know I was okay, you could...be happy. Like you used to be.”

 

Izumi stares back at him, and gives him one final, hard shake. “You know that I’ve always been like this, right?” he bluntly says. “The word you’re looking for isn’t ‘happy’, it’s ‘filtered.’ Yuu-kun, you agreed to a pity date because you thought that would fix me, too…which kinda makes me want to beat you up, actually.”

 

Usually, that would make Makoto flinch away, maybe even run--but just now, he grabs Izumi by the collar, shaking him a little. “That’s not why I said yes!” His voice is too loud, but at least it’s _firm_ for once in his life. “That’s...that’s not it! So don’t think it was!”

 

Izumi sways limply with the shake, too taken off-guard to even respond for a moment, and even then, it’s not his most eloquent retort. “But—you—why, then? You like girls.” He’s crazy, not _stupid._

 

“I...liked you.” It’s a woefully inadequate response, but Makoto isn’t sure just how much eloquence Izumi expects from him after all this time. “You were really nice. And you’d always helped me, and it...it was so nice to have someone like me? I mean, it would have been nice if you were a girl, but it’s not like I think you’re gross or anything, and I tried, and I could definitely have done it--”

 

He stops talking with a despairing groan. Izumi hadn’t needed to hear that part.

 

Izumi can’t stop staring, and he slowly covers his mouth with one hand, wide-eyed and flushed. “Yuu-kun…did you…did you jerk off to my gravure?”

 

“W-w-well--!” Makoto’s face burns, but his stomach isn’t doing flip-flops like it had earlier. This is embarrassing, but weirdly...not as scary as the Izumi he’d been dealing with up until now. “Isn’t that what it’s for?”

 

Izumi just starts giggling. That’s probably the stress of emotionally flip-flopping in every direction, and now _this_ just being honestly so unexpected and genuinely not what he’d expected from Makoto at _all_ —“Do I need to give you the special edition photobook we did? It’s suuuper edgy, you can see what I look like in lingerie if that’s what really gets you going—“

 

Makoto raises his hands, waving frantically. “You don’t need to do that! Aha, honestly, the one time was enough, I know I could do it, I--did they really do that kind of thing?” Would he have had to, if he’d stayed?

 

“Don’t worry, Yuu-kun, I would’ve made it easy on you. You could always be the one who does what he wants.” Izumi pauses and looks at Makoto’s face again. “The older you get, the worse it gets. You know that’s why even I took a hiatus to focus on dancing for awhile, right? It sucks sometimes. I don’t blame you for wanting to fuck off.”

 

“Really?” Makoto blinks, surprised. “It never...seemed to scare you, or bother you. I felt so weak next to someone cool like you, like...it would never stop bothering me.”

 

“Uh…yeah. When I got suspended a couple of times, it was honestly a relief to get away. It never _scared_ me, but that’s because I like attention way more than you do, anyway.” Izumi sighs, planting his hands on his hips. “You really don’t pay attention to anyone but yourself, do you?”

 

Makoto grimaces. “I should pay more attention,” he admits. “I just, I could never...do some of the things you did? Like with...the car...”

 

“Yuu-kun, do you know what your _real_ problem is?”

 

“Um, no?”

 

Izumi grabs Makoto’s face in both of his hands, squeezing. “You still don’t know that you’re hot. Stop that immediately or I’m going to punch you.”

 

Makoto winces, more from the words than from the squeeze. “It doesn’t...feel like something that’s good to talk or think about, though. I mean, it’s only ever...gotten me trouble? That’s why I wear the glasses. I don’t...want people to think I look good.”

 

“Are you trying to be an idol or aren’t you?” Izumi sighs, releasing his face with a pat to his cheek. “Dumbass. You look cute even with the stupid glasses, so that’s not helping your cause. If you go out there knowing you’re hot and act like it, though, people are gonna stay away from you and be way more hesitant to touch you than if you shrink away and try to hide how hot you are. Why do you think no one messes with me?”

 

“Because you’re really cool?” Makoto tries sheepishly. “Ah, I don’t think I can change my whole personality, though? I’ve tried...it doesn’t really work. I guess I’m just a pretty useless guy after all. But I want to get better. And I want you to be, ah, filtered, you said? If that means you’re less, um...” _Ready to throw yourself off of stuff._

 

“I’m not telling you to change your whole personality, I’m just telling you to be a _little_ more confident, you idiot.” Izumi’s shoulders heave with a deep sigh, and he glances away, his mouth twisting. “Yuu-kun…just talking to you makes me feel better. But you know I’m just kinda like this, right? Just like you can’t change your whole personality, I’m the same. I’ll…try really hard not to scare you anymore, though.”

 

Makoto nods. “And I won’t...be scared anymore. I’ll try to hold my head up high!” He rubs at his arms, wrestling with himself, before finally offering, “If it would help...n-not that it’s for that, but...if you wanted to go somewhere this weekend...”

 

Izumi hopes the disbelief isn’t showing on his face as much as he feels it. “Is…are you…wait, if this is another pity date thing, I’ll actually kill you.”

 

“I told you it wasn’t pity,” Makoto mutters, folding his arms across his chest. “I can do it.”

 

This is a test, for sure, and Izumi isn’t entirely proud of the way he has to actually wrestle with himself. Fuck. He’ll deal with that side of his thoughts later. _Fuck._ “I. Um. Fuck,” he says aloud this time, looking aside as he folds his arms as well. “I’d love to hang out with you this weekend, but it’s…as friends. Only friends. I, um. I actually have a boyfriend.”

 

Makoto’s face freezes for a second, then fades into a relieved, almost ecstatic smile. “Ahhh, I’m so happy for you, Iz--Onii-chan! Then--we really can hang out, right? As friends? That would be so good!”

 

That _Onii-chan_ cancels out the lingering feelings of resentment and irritation that Izumi feels— _why couldn’t you have done this before? Stupid Miki-san, you should’ve nearly died earlier, then this could be a thing._ It’s not a very rational thought, but Izumi has never considered any part of his mind to be rational. “Yeah, that would be really good,” he exhales instead, cracking a smile. “Shit, I’m gonna kill Kuma-kun for not just telling you. He sure did chatter about me in every other way, huh.”

 

Makoto shrugs. “Ah, I only hear about it from Isara-kun, so maybe he does? Maybe he just...they don’t always want to tell me, ah, things. About people. Not you!” Definitely about Izumi.

 

“Mmmn, if that’s the case, it’s time for another Knights-Trickstar joint live, don’t you think?”

 

“Um...I’ll bring it up?” Makoto tries nervously. “Hey, who is it, by the way? Your, um, boyfriend?”

 

It’s the first _real_ thing in his life Makoto has asked him about in a long, long while, and that doesn’t pass Izumi by. _Don’t tear up about that, loser!_ he scolds himself, aghast, and blinks hard. “I, heh. It’s Knights’ leader—Tsukinaga Leo.”

 

Immediately, Makoto feels like an idiot, and slaps himself upside the head. “Uwaah, I should have known--Sakuma-kun was saying you were so much happier now that he was back...ah, you’re not the only one who needs to pay more attention, you know?”

 

“Yeah, no kidding,” Izumi drawls, leaning forward to flick Makoto’s forehead. “So anyway, Yuu-kun, you missed the boat. I mean, I’m game for a harem, but I don’t think Ou-sama’s your type. Too much of a boy.”

 

Makoto laughs, rubbing at his forehead. “You’re probably right. Eh, but he’s...your parents, you said they were happy when...do they know? Are they doing well?”

 

**To: Izumi-chan**

**Subject: ???**

**not that i would bail you out of jail but do i need to**

 

“Yeah, they’ve met him. I think they’re just grateful I’m dating someone cute, to be honest…” Izumi fishes in his pocket for his phone. “You need to come and see them this weekend. They ask about you a lot, you know. Ah, hold on, selfie with me.”

 

“Oh, okay. Do you want...should I take off my glasses?”

 

“No, leave them on, that’s you in your natural state.” Izumi slings an arm around his shoulders, flashing a peace sign as he snaps the picture. “I still suck at looking casual in pictures, damn it,” he sighs, examining the photo for a moment before shrugging and sending it off to Arashi. Makoto looks cute, that’s the important thing.

 

**To: Naru-kun**

**toldyouso.jpg**

 

“Eh, but you look really handsome,” Makoto mutters. It’s hard not to compare their level of attractiveness, even after all this time.

 

**To: Izumi-san**

**Subject: holy shit**

**u need a condom???????**

 

“Yuu-kun is the cutest,” Izumi dismissively says, itching to take another picture, and only _just_ resisting.

 

**To: Naru-kun**

**Subject: WOW**

**this is pure READ THE MOOD**

 

“Anyway, this weekend—can I take you out somewhere nice to eat? I can tell you’ve been eating junk food just by looking at your skin.”

 

“You don’t need to spend a lot of money on me or anything,” Makoto says hurriedly, finger-combing his hair. “I’m fine with ramen or something? It’ll just be good to actually talk...”

 

“Yuu-kun, have you ever known me to eat a bowl of ramen in my life? We’re going somewhere nice. Then we can hang out at my house and you can make my parents stop _asking_ about you.” Izumi pulls his phone closer to his face, examining his red-rimmed eyes from crying, and frowns at them, annoyed. “Got it?”

 

“G-got it!”

 

His voice might be squeaking, but there’s a relieved, relaxed warmth in it that makes Makoto feel guilty even now. This could have happened years ago, if he weren’t so cowardly, weren’t so stupid, weren’t so...

 

It doesn’t matter now.

 

He lurches forward on impulse, throwing his arms around Izumi for a sudden, squeezing hug, before turning and running for the classrooms, face burning in embarrassment.

 

It’s good to know that he can die happy now, Izumi dazedly thinks, standing there in the middle of the tennis court for a long while after to get himself together, the lingering warmth of Makoto’s arms around him making his legs wobbly and his skin hot.

 

_Get it together!_

 

Of course, he still can’t quite shake the irritation at _himself_. Makoto hadn’t done anything wrong by asking him out, but the fact _he_ had nearly jumped on that opportunity rubs him the wrong way, and he eventually stalks off, mind buzzing in frustration. Time to fix this. Right, where’s Leo?

 

The stupid king skips a lot of class, but less of club activities. It’s always jarring to remember that Leo is in the _Archery Club_ , of all things. It’s such a normal, Japanese thing for someone to be involved in, and Leo is typically everything but normal and Japanese. Izumi strides his way up to the clubhouse door, frowning at the cluster of cats that seem to be lingering about, and throws it open to the surprised faces of Tsukasa and Yuzuru. “Yo, Kasa-kun. Where’s Ou-sama?”

 

“Sena-sempai—you don’t want to be here,” Tsukasa hastily says instead of answering him. “Hasumi-sempai, he’s really territorial, he _will_ throw you out and—“

 

“You keep talking and I hate that, shitty brat.” Izumi steps inside, uncaring. “Ouuu-samaaaa, I know you’re here—fuck, this is a lot of cats.”

 

“Sena! You’re here to meet my Nyaitsu!”

 

It’s easy to miss Leo, only looking at human head height. That’s probably because he’s lying facedown on the ground in his archery club uniform, covered in the bulk of several fat cats that walk over him uncaring, as if he’s always down there. He picks up one fat gray baby and waves it, its paws dangling uncaring. “This is Sena. He bites a _lot_.”

 

Izumi blinks a few times, his face coloring in spite of there not _really_ being a reason for it. It’s just—“Why did you name a cat after me?” he exasperatedly asks, walking over and stepping on Leo’s back, grinding his heel in. “Get off the floor, idiot. Is this what the archery club does, fucks around and plays with cats?”

 

“That is up for debate, isn’t it,” Yuzuru quips across the room.

 

“Archery isn’t all about firing bows and arrows,” Leo says, tapping his head as if he’s sharing deep knowledge. “Suou~, are you going to let him walk on your king like this?”

 

“Um—Sena-sempai, it can’t be good to damage our Leader like this—“

 

“And what’re you gonna do to stop me, brat?” Izumi growls, deliberately stepping on Leo’s head now. “I’m not damaging him, he likes this shit.”

 

Tsukasa wavers, not entirely sure how to deal with this. “From what I’ve observed,” he continues carefully, “and from what the other Knights have told me, being forceful with our Leader tends to negatively impact his inspiration. If you continue, Sena-sempai, surely—“

 

“I can’t handle this,” Izumi sighs, crouching down next to Leo. “Oi, Ou-sama, get up. I gotta talk to you about something.”

 

Leo turns his head, now imprinted with the floor’s pattern, then leaps to his feet in an oddly fluid motion, hands not touching the ground. “If this is a bad talk, I’m gonna shoot you with an arrow,” he says cheerfully, and jumps into Izumi’s arms, hands around his neck whether he’s ready or not. “Let’s go!”

 

Izumi grunts, swaying slightly from surprise more than the sudden weight of Leo in his arms. “Next time, jump properly so I can _presage_ your sorry ass,” he only half-jokes, straightening up and carrying Leo to the door. He’s _really_ no heavier than any girl, how convenient. “You look cute in your archery uniform.”

 

He’s aware of how Tsukasa and Yuzuru both are staring, and shutting the door in their faces is all the more entertaining because of it. “I don’t have anything to talk about,” Izumi then admits. “I just wanted to make out.”

 

“We could have done that in the archery room,” Leo says, unrepentant. “You didn’t bring my shoes, so you’ll have to not put me down ever. Ahh, Sena, your horseback words make me want to write you a song!”

 

“And scar the shitty brat so that he runs off to tattle? I don’t think so.” Izumi hikes Leo up into his arms a bit more, content to keep Leo there for as long as he can stand it. “Yuu-kun talked to me today.”

 

Leo reaches one hand down, balancing himself with just one so that he can stroke Izumi’s hair and cheek. “Good! You seem happy. Hey, there’s the equipment shed, I have the key! For making out, I mean. I don’t need any equipment for that.”

 

Izumi rolls his eyes and makes his way over to the shed, trying not to wrinkle his nose at all of the general _shoddiness_. “Doesn’t the archery club get any funding?” he complains. “I thought Hasumi was the president.” He drops Leo deliberately, catching him just before he hits the ground and dangling him there in front of the door. “Unlock it.”

 

Leo pulls the key out from the cord around his neck, turning it in the lock and giving the door a hard shoulder. “Keito-kun spent our budget on bow repair this term,” he says with a hum, socked feet wriggling on the stone floor. “Last time it was on cat toys.”

 

“…Ah.” He supposes there are a lot of cats. Izumi steps into the shed, relieved to find it at least clean, even if it still seems to be in various states of disrepair. He pulls the door shut behind them, shaking his head at the creaking sound it makes. “Hey, Ou-sama.” Might as well get this out of the way—if he doesn’t, it’s going to drive him _nuts,_ and he doesn’t need one more thing doing that _._ “Yuu-kun asked me out.”

 

“Oh?” Being absent for Knights for half a year hasn’t made Leo an idiot. He might forget the name of his first-year (or himself), but he’s known Sena Izumi for three years now, and doubts he’ll ever forget the sound of _Yuu-kun_. He turns, and snakes his arms around Izumi’s waist, tugging him close, face tilted up. “Must have been hard to turn him down,” he muses. “Sena is a really strong person.”

 

Izumi blinks, startled for a half-second before his composure falters, his casual expression crumpling with it. Of course _Leo_ would assume the best of him, that he’d turn Makoto down. Leo, who has never once turned him away or lost faith in him or told him he was anything but beautiful…

 

He sucks in a ragged breath and grabs Leo by the hips, backing him towards an old, wooden work table, the only thing that still looks like it can hold weight, and hoists him up onto it, immediately between his legs, immediately grabbing him into a kiss.

 

Leo lets out a pleased little squeal, letting his hands tangle in Izumi’s hair, leaning back to draw him in. His body lights up faster than it had before, blood throbbing through his veins as if it remembers how Izumi had touched him last time, how Izumi had ached moving in him and set his skin on fire. Even a kiss now draws him back to that feeling, and he feels his cock suddenly rock-hard in his loose kyudogi. Izumi probably feels it too--Leo’s whole body seems to be trying to pull him in, legs around his waist, teeth dragging at his lips, hands dragging his head closer for more kisses, more touches, more of everything when it seems like Izumi is holding the only air in the room.

 

Between kisses, between searching for air, Izumi fumbles a hand down, grabbing at the front of Leo’s uniform, hooking into the ties of his sash before his palm presses down, feeling exactly how hard his cock is through the loose fabric. “Shit, Ou-sama,” he manages breathlessly, a laugh on his voice as tension flutters away with every tug of Leo’s hands and teeth. “Am I that good a kisser, or are you just horny?” Either way, he’s not going to complain, and curling his fingers around the hard line of Leo’s cock makes him shiver and lurch forward, sucking on Leo’s lower lip, gently biting when he tugs it into his mouth.

 

Leo shivers hard, precome already leaking over Izumi’s hand as his cock twitches in that soft, strong grip. It feels like Izumi is dragging the arousal out of him with every bite of his lips, but he fumbles his way to speech, hands raking down Izumi’s back through his shirt. “Nnnh, n-neither--I just couldn’t stop thinking about you in me all day,” he says without a hint of shame, eyes dark and heated when they look up, hips rutting against Izumi’s hand.

 

The response leaves Izumi struggling for words, so he gives up trying to say anything when he’d just sound stupid, babbling affection that doesn’t mean much when he could be _doing_ something instead. Kissing Leo hard a last, lingering time, Izumi sinks down to kneel in front of him, hands grabbing at Leo’s hips, hauling him to the edge of the table.

 

The score of Leo’s nails against his back is a lingering thing that keeps him shivering when he yanks at the ties of Leo’s hakama, easing them down and letting them fall to the floor in short order. Leo’s cock is hard and straining, and Izumi resists touching it for a moment, starting at Leo’s feet instead, tugging off his sock to mouth a kiss to the arch of his foot, to the inside of his ankle up to his knee, to the inside of a pale thigh.

 

Leo claps a hand over his own mouth, breathing an urgent whimper against his palm when his body reacts so strongly to Izumi’s tender touch. He hisses, then groans, thighs parting to let Izumi in, his cock leaking a clear bead of liquid, trembling in the air now that it isn’t being touched, and he feels laid entirely bare for Izumi’s perusal.

 

“Can you see?” he breathes, letting his hand fall to Izumi’s hair to stroke, the other bracing on the bench for balance. “Any signs of when you made love to me?”

 

Izumi’s eyes flutter, his toes curling in his shoes as he scoots closer on his knees at the touch to his hair. “Ou-sama’s so pale, it’s hard not to,” he mutters, his mouth dragging over some of the tiny finger-shaped bruises that his hands had left on Leo’s thighs when he had grabbed too hard, overeager and overstimulated. Otherwise, his thighs are spotless, all pale, smooth skin, and there’s little prettier to look at. “Next time, you should leave more on me,” he sighs, leaning up to kiss and suck on the junction of hip and high, and examines the hickey he leaves before tilting his head to lick up the drop of liquid that slides down Leo’s cock. The taste goes directly to the heat in his own belly, and Izumi groans, wrapping his fingers around Leo, pulling the head of his cock to his mouth for a proper suck.

 

Leo starts to say something, but the sudden slick heat of Izumi’s mouth catches him off guard, as if Izumi is sucking out his soul. He lets out a high, whimpering sound of helpless heat and hunger, leaning back on his hand as his hips grind up.

 

He’s never had a blowjob before, but he’s absolutely convinced that this is the best one anyone has ever had. He keens high in his throat, and his hand tangles in Izumi’s hair as he nods frantically. “I’ve got to fix you up,” he groans. “Sena is...my masterpiece...”

 

Izumi squirms where he kneels, and pulls his head back for a second, just long enough to shove his own fingers into his mouth, pulling them out slick with saliva. “Please,” he pants out, licking a hot, wet stripe up Leo’s cock as he tugs Leo forward, enough to wriggle his hand underneath and let those slick fingers drag against his hole before a pair of them sink inside, curling immediately. His mouth closes around he head of Leo’s cock again, swallowing down the taste of him, refusing to waste time and not taste all that he can when Leo is leaking over his tongue with every bob of his head, every stroke of his fingers.

 

Leo doesn’t ask what Izumi means by that plea. It doesn’t matter. He feels the same, nails digging in to Izumi’s scalp, his hips canting up over and over again, grinding his cock into the welcoming heat of that tongue, those lips, those agonizingly beautiful noises he releases with every single stroke of his hips. “Sena,” he pleads brokenly, shoving down on Izumi’s slick fingers, and that’s all it takes--the memory of Izumi hot and hard inside him, dragging against every good place--the thick spread of his hole around those questing fingers--the way his skin feels like it’s on fire, his nipples hard under his shirt, his balls tense and tight against his body, his toes curling in the air as he spills across Izumi’s tongue and down his throat, head thrown back, trying not to scream as he bites his lip.

 

Izumi tries not to make a complete mess out of himself, and fails. He makes the mistake of pulling back just a little, just as Leo comes, and while it would be so easy to swallow everything if Leo was further down his throat…well, that’s not happening. He chokes, swallowing what he can, and the rest drips down his lips as he suppresses a cough, shivery and flushing dark as his tongue flicks out to feel the mess on his lips and chin. _Should’ve just asked him to come on my face_ , Izumi dazedly thinks, and without thinking, he shoves his hand into his pocket, snatching out his phone and flipping it to the camera. “Take a picture,” he hoarsely pleads, shoving the phone into Leo’s hand. “Please?”

 

Leo grabs the phone as fast and accurately as his can, snapping a shot, then reaching forward and rubbing his thumb across Izumi’s lower lip as he takes another. Breathing hard, he switches to video, and pushes his thumb inside Izumi’s mouth, then slowly draws it out, watching a string of liquid connect his thumb and Izumi’s mouth. “Say...please again, Sena,” he breathes, feeling as if he’s about to come again just from watching this, thumb trembling over the recording button.

 

Izumi swallows hard, his throat bobbing visibly as he does. He shivers where he kneels, his tongue flicking out to follow Leo’s thumb, a low, needy noise leaving his throat. “Please,” he rasps, his breath hiccuping. “Are you..are you recording this?”

 

“Yeah. Smile for the camera, Sena. And stick out your tongue.”

 

Izumi was just thinking it was a miracle he hadn’t come in his pants yet. The sudden shock of those words down his spine makes quick work of that miracle, and he groans, trembling and pressing his thighs together as his chest heaves with every little tremor that courses through him. “O…Ou-sama…” he huffs, his eyes fluttering wildly as he looks up, hoping it’s right into the camera when he obeys, sticking out his tongue.

 

“I think,” Leo says shakily into the camera’s speaker, “Sena just came in his pants from being on camera. As expected of a model, eh?” He hits the stop button and lets the phone down, but not before sending the clip to himself via Line. “You don’t mind if I keep that, right?”

 

“Fuck, no,” Izumi groans, lurching forward to bury his face into Leo’s thighs. “Keep it and get off to it and tell me about it later, that turns me on.”

 

Leo pets him, because that’s clearly what’s desired here on both parts. “Was that enough, Sena? You really are amazing at that, wow!”

 

“Can I see the pictures?” comes Izumi’s muffled response from between Leo’s thighs. “Nn, I think I got my daily source of protein, at least…”

 

Leo flips the camera back open, scrolling to the pictures, and hands it over. “Look how happy you look there,” he says, quite pleased with himself. “You can’t say I don’t properly feed my cat. Did you have enough milk?”

 

Izumi barely gets a chance to look at the pictures before Leo says that, and his eyes go wide as his body just decides another, shuddering (and otherwise, entirely unprompted) orgasm is in order, making him arch forward with a bitten back whimper. “Fuck—m-mercy, mercy, I’m gonna die, what the fuck,” he whines, glaring down at the wet spot on his trousers as if his dick is the world’s worst traitor. “It was barely even hard again, what the fuck.”

 

Leo’s eyebrows raise, startled. “Did...you really...wow! Sena, you’re so hot I’m going to die,” he says frankly, hopping off the table to put his arms around Izumi, pulling him close, head against Leo’s chest. “Does it always do that?”

 

Izumi buries his face firmly into Leo’s chest, slinging his still-trembling arms around him. “Once, but…” He’d assumed it was courtesy of a very repressed fantasy and Sakuma Ritsu’s teeth being really sharp when they bit into his neck. “’s your fault,” he accuses, squeezing Leo firmly. “Saying shit like that. Ugh, and everyone says I’m the one with the bad mouth, Ou-sama is so much dirtier…”

 

Leo sticks out his tongue, then winks. “Dunno what you’re talking about. Maybe you imagined me saying something dirty to make up for your own fantasies about your pure, innocent king?”

 

“There’s nothing innocent about you,” Izumi grumbles, sneaking a hand down to pinch his ass. “And that turns me on, too. This is the worst, I can’t function normally.”

 

Leo squeaks at the pinch, and he stands again, stretching out his legs. “You don’t need to function normally, though. Just function extraordinarily. You’re my masterpiece, aren’t--Sena!! Sena, take your shirt off, now!”

 

He turns suddenly, a manic gleam in his eye, grabbing for the markers he knows he has hidden in the equipment shed.

 

Ah, so it’s like that. Izumi heaves a shaky sigh, fully resigned (and kind of really enjoying it, so help him) as he unbuttons his shirt, shrugging it off. “Want me to lie down for this, or—I guess you need to get at my back too, never mind.”

 

Leo doesn’t answer, only humming in little distracted snatches of melody, uncapping his markers and scribbling all over Izumi’s skin, hardly paying attention to what body part he’s using, just needing desperately to get all the notes out of his head before they rot there. “If it tickles just bear it,” he mutters, moving from arm to chest to belly to back to thigh.

 

It’s less a matter of it tickling and more a matter of Leo using him as his literal canvas that turns him on to a shocking amount. Fuck me, Izumi wearily thinks, and takes the split second when Leo pauses to kick off his trousers too, because fuck it, Leo might as well have all of him to draw on. His hands reflexively move to rest over the tops of his thighs, fingers splayed to obscure the skin, but he surrenders those, too, soon enough. _I’m his sheet music, it’s fine._

 

Leo has no idea how much time passes. He has no idea who he is anymore, really, when all that matters is the music. His eyes glaze over, everything fading into the background when there’s only the music, and it’s never fit as well into place as it does on Izumi’s skin.

 

When the song is done, he collapses, leaning back against the table he’d forgotten about, sweating a little, staring at his masterpiece. It covers Izumi from ankle to neck, sprawling across every bit of him, a work of art unlike any Leo has ever seen, and still Izumi stands motionless. How long has he been like this? “How...long?” he croaks, feeling his voice rusty, though that’s happened after just a moment of Inspiration before.

 

“…Forty five minutes,” Izumi finally drawls, cracking his stiff neck and shaking out his arms with a sigh of relief. “Ballet’s good for something after all. Damn, Ou-sama…” He stretches a leg forward, admiring the lines and lines of music now decorating him instead of all the ugly incarnations of shitty emotions and dark thoughts. “Usually it’s just my arm or the back of a desk, this must’ve been a good one.”

 

Leo cocks his head, drinking in the song, and smiles a little. Izumi is going to like this one, when it’s written out. “It’s for you,” he says simply, and reaches for the ties of his hakama, pulling them up.

 

“Careful, everyone’s gonna accuse you of favoritism,” Izumi murmurs, his face flushing a little in pleasure all the same. A song written for him, written on him…yeah, that’s not great or anything. “D’you need to take pics of it or anything? Or is it all in that weird head of yours already?” He pauses, and absently rubs at the back of one hand. “Was that a permanent marker?”

 

“Of course not! They’re always--” Leo looks down at the markers in his hand. Washable Orange, Washable Yellow, Washable Purple, Sharpie Green, Washable Blue. Oh. “The green might stay a while,” he admits.

 

Izumi spares a glance down at himself. Yeah. Yeah, most of that is definitely green. “Come here. Come here so I can fuck you up.”

 

“Wahahaha! Catch me first!”

 


	9. Chapter 9

It’s hot.

 

 _Really_ hot.

 

This is shorts weather. Tank top weather. That doesn’t stop Sena Izumi from stalking to weekend practice in leggings, a long-sleeved turtleneck that sweeps to mid-thigh, and boots to _try_ and make the look seem natural in this weather, even though he’s aware of the stares on him the second he walks into the room. “What?” he snaps irritably, throwing his bag down into a chair and whipping out his phone to check his face. At least he’s not sweating too much. That new setting powder is something _else_.

 

Sakuma Ritsu raises his head from his Knights futon, blinking slowly as a smile stretches the sides of his face. “Heh...Secchan...how many hickeys have you got?”

 

“Hickeys?” Arashi’s head swivels around, and he catches sight of Izumi, bursting into delighted giggles. “Oh my god, are they on your _ankles_?”

 

“I will kill you,” Izumi flatly threatens, not looking up from his phone. Whatever, at least he looks cute, even if it’s out of season. “Maybe I was cold today, what do you care?”

 

Ritsu flops back on the futon, stretching his legs out and wriggling his toes. “Secchan, it’s soooo hot out. Take off your shirt. I wanna see your pretty ballerina muscles.”

 

“Fat chance, Ritsu-chan. Izumi-chan never even strips for me when we’re having fu~un...”

 

“Who the hell would want to get naked for you?” Izumi deadpans, dropping down into a chair and slouching forward over his phone. “If you’re hot, me stripping isn’t gonna make it any better, Kuma-kun.”

 

“But Secchan is cold as ice,” Ritsu says, through a fluffy little yawn. “Like a reptile. Secchan, come cuddle with me, I can use some coolness....”

 

“No.” Izumi makes the mistake of thoughtlessly sticking a finger into his turtleneck’s collar, tugging it down enough to relieve himself of some of the sweat plastering it to his skin, and the unsmudged, barely faded line of music drawn there is plainly visible. “Calling me a reptile isn’t exactly a turn-on, you know. Kasa-kun better be bringing all the drinks today, I miss that fancy water…” 

 

Arashi moves fast--always--and dashes forward, grabbing Izumi by the wrist, then yanking down his collar. “Ohhh, my! Ritsu-chan, look!”

 

“Whooooa! Secchan...” Ritsu’s eyes widen. “Haha, Ou-sama got to you good, huh?”

 

“Oi, let me go, shitty okama,” Izumi protests, squirming back in his chair as he yanks on his wrist, trying to free himself. The result is his shirt hiking up around his stomach as he moves instead, and he can already _feel_ Arashi’s sharp, evil eyes slide down to the tell-tale marks of Leo’s inspiration all over his skin before he can reach down to try and hide it again. “No,” he warns before Arashi moves. “Don’t you dare.”

 

Instead, it’s Ritsu that moves, forgotten on the ground until now, and yanks up the hem of Izumi’s leggings. “Ehhh, it’s all the way down here? How long did you have to stand still?”

 

Arashi laughs, reaching for the neck of the turtleneck again. “Oh, I’ve got to see if it’s _everywhere_ \--”

 

“Quit it!” Izumi reaches down to swat at Ritsu as he grabs for Arashi with his other hand, glowering up at him. “Shitty traitors, both of you. I was your leader before Ou-sama came back, treat me with respect!”

 

“Do you really wanna remind us of that?” Ritsu asks, amused as he tries to help Arashi, shoving Izumi down into a chair. “If you wanna remind us of that, we’re gonna remember you tying some kid up--let’s do that to him, Natchan. I wanna see Ou-sama’s tally marks in D Major.”

 

“Rude, Ritsu-chan--but a good idea!”

 

“T-there’s no tally marks, what the fuck!” The worst part about all of this is _honestly_ that he’s flustered in the vaguely aroused sense, and, well, considering he’s at least made out with both of these fucking traitors, is it that surprising? _Can you chill for like, a minute,_ he wearily wills his dick. This is Leo’s fault, somehow. “Let me go, I’ll kick you in the face!”

 

His savior comes in an unlikely form, which is Tsukasa Suou, opening up the practice room door with a cooler trailing behind him. He blinks, frowning at the sight, and pulls the door shut again. “You’re all here before me? Am I late?”

 

“Kasa-kun!” Izumi flails again. “Save me, you remember when I was in charge, right? That’s an order!”

 

“Sena-sempai…what is that writing on your chest?”

 

“I _just_ ordered you to do something, why are you all so _shitty?_ ”

 

Ritsu takes the expedient route to keep Izumi still and sits on him hard, draping himself over Izumi’s body with a deliberate flop. “Kasa-kun, have you ever made out with Izumi-chan? Heh, it’s kind of a Knights tradition, I guess...”

 

“No, it isn’t! Fuck, you’re heavy, lose some weight,” Izumi snaps, struggling underneath Ritsu’s weight and then deciding that is _not_ helping his cause.

 

Tsukasa’s stare continues. “Ritsu-sempai,” he carefully begins, “I have never _once_ heard of that being a Knights tradition, and I think myself rather well-versed on the history of—“

 

Izumi reaches out to actually grab for Arashi this time, digging his nails into his wrist. “Kill him,” he flatly says. “Kill him before I do it.”

 

“Kill which one?” Arashi asks, amused even as he tries to snatch his wrist back, twisting away from the sharp (ow) pain of Izumi’s nails. “I mean, you usually mean Tsukasa-chan when you say things like that, but Ritsu-chan is the one sitting on you....”

 

“Secchan, if you say who was the best kisser I might be merciful,” Ritsu offers with a grin. “Or is it Ou-sama? Suuchan, who’s your money on?”

 

“…Isn’t this all…very disrespectful to both Sena-sempai and our Leader?”

 

“Yes! Yes, it is!” Izumi releases Arashi with a scowl, fully realizing he’s not getting any assistance from him. He stares up at Ritsu, eyes narrow. “Hard to judge if you’re a good kisser or not, considering it was only that _one time_ and I’m pretty sure I’m not allowed to talk about that.”

 

Ritsu glares. They’d _agreed_ not to talk about the specifics, namely how he’d breathed _Onii-chan_ and Izumi had come in his pants. At least he has his revenge; he can feel how hard Izumi is under him, and leans forward. “You’re right, Suuchan. I’ll just get up.”

 

Izumi’s mouth falls open at the sudden shift of weight, and he gulps, grabbing Ritsu by the arm to yank him right back into his lap. “Just fucking stay here, I’m cold today,” he lies through his teeth, because at least the outfit is convincing enough for a shitty, sheltered first year.

 

“It’s over 30 degrees today, Sena-sempai; you’re going to get heatstroke,” Tsukasa chides, already having moved on from the strange game the upperclassmen are playing and set about organizing the great deal of fanmail that Knights has acquired. “If you’re cold, you might be getting sick.”

 

“Oh, no! You’re getting sick, Izumi-chan?” Arashi demands in mock-horror. “We should get you some tea. Or maybe you should go to the nurse’s office. Ah, Class 3-A sure does spend a lot of time there...I can walk you, maybe I’ll see Kunugi-sensei...”

 

Ritsu looks deliberately over his shoulder, then swivels his hips down, deliberately squashing Izumi’s cock under one thigh. That’s funny. “Suuchan,” he wheedles, “come be part of the pile, sit on me.”

 

Izumi’s teeth grind, and he gives up. The more he struggles, the worse it is, anyway. “Yeah, I’m dying of the worst summer cold,” he deadpans, and reaches a hand up to pinch one of Ritsu’s nipples through his shirt. “Sit still, Kuma-kun, your ass is nice and warm.”

 

Tsukasa spares one look at the so-called ‘pile’ before turning back to his self-appointed task. “Honestly, sempai,” he sighs. “This is why nothing ever gets accomplished—“

 

“Heeeere we go.”

 

“I thought once Leader returned, some of the focus of Knights would, too. But instead, Sena-sempai, Narukami-sempai—you’ve both been working outside of the unit so much, and Ritsu-sempai, you spend all of your time in Tea club…with nothing to show for it! I bet you still can’t tell the difference between the traditional Earl Grey and the Russian and French formulations—“

 

Izumi’s eyes glaze, and he collapses back into his chair with a sigh, staring up at the ceiling.

 

“Yeah, that’s not really....why I joined tea club,” Ritsu says with a little snicker, ignoring Izumi’s cold hands. “Suuchan, I thought you were gonna come be my blanket....instead you’re yelling at me and not feeding me, it’s soooo rude. At least Secchan is good enough to let me use his squishy thighs as a pillow.”

 

“My thighs aren’t squishy, fuck you.”

 

“I never said I was going to be your blanket, Ritsu-sempai,” Tsukasa patiently replies. “Why would you join tea club if you aren’t there to learn? I wish I had enough time in my schedule for two club activities, Tenshouin-sempai’s taste in tea is—ah! Right, that’s it!” He rummages for a folder that has obviously been tended to by his own careful organizational system (a task that Izumi dismissively handed over to him awhile ago). “Leader responded to one of Tenshouin-sempai’s Live challenges.”

 

Izumi’s lips purse. “Since when?”

 

“Last…Tuesday? Ah, how annoying, I wish he had informed us sooner, the request is about to expire.”

 

“Good, let it.”

 

“ _Sena-sempai_ ,” Tsukasa exasperatedly begins, and Izumi can already feel his irritation rising. “We can’t continue to just sit around and be a ceremonial unit—Knights is a unit founded on _principles_.”

 

 _Yeah, because you were here to start all that over the past three years._ Izumi bites his tongue and hooks his chin over Ritsu’s shoulder. “I’m ready to kill him if you are.”

 

Ritsu shifts around, less concerned now with keeping Izumi down and far more interested in making himself comfortable. “Hmmm...I think I’ll pass,” he says with a yawn so big it feels like his jaw will break. “Sounds hard.”

 

“Ritsu-chan, Izumi-chan, for shame!” Arashi says with a click of his tongue, wrapping his arms around Tsukasa from behind. “Tsukasa-chan is good enough to bring this to our attention--ahh, what should I wear for the Live?”

 

“Ask Secchan,” Ritsu says, stretching out his arms and flopping down on Izumi’s lap. “He’d know what Ou-sama wants.”

 

“Responding is one thing—signing it and actually accepting is another,” Izumi mutters, pushing Ritsu out of his lap as he climbs to his feet. At least now he can safely say he’s not turned on in the slightest. Now he’s just _irritated,_ and sort of wants to punch something. “If he hasn’t signed it yet, then he doesn’t really want to do it.”

 

“Then why would he go through the trouble of accepting it?” Tsukasa asks, his brow furrowing in confusion. “Surely he’s mentioned this to you, Sena-sempai.”

 

“If you think he talks about Tenshouin Eichi and challenging him when we hang out, then you’re a moron.” Admittedly, Leo _has_ been writing a lot of new music, and the admission that he’d written so many of fine’s songs before… “Besides, if I have to be on stage near Tenshouin, I’ll probably hit that guy. The way he talks shit about Knights really pisses me off.”

 

“If we don’t respond after challenging him,” Arashi muses, “it’ll just look like Ou-sama wanted to show off, but we couldn’t follow through, no?”

 

“S’not like fine is as scary as it used to be,” Ritsu mumbles, crawling back to his futon. “Even Maa~kun’s unit beat them...Secchan, go ask Ou-sama after school.”

 

“fine’s never been scary, they’re just assholes,” Izumi mutters, walking over to the dance bar against the wall. He stretches his arms up and over his head, sighing as he hears the satisfactory pop in his shoulders. “Avoiding them isn’t not following through, it’s…” His mouth twists. “Whatever.” He’s been banned from saying that word, but Leo isn’t here to stop him, so _whatever_ it is. He props a leg up onto the bar and bends forward, stretching out his frustration.

 

“But wouldn’t this be an excellent chance for revenge?” The tension in the room makes Tsukasa so _sure_ he’s missing something, but if his sempai aren’t going to say it, then he might as well keep pressing. “According to records from last year, Knights’ defeat at the hands of fine was unprecedented, so now seems like the chance we’ve been looking for.”

 

“No one cares what you think, Kasa-kun.”

 

Arashi sighs. “Maybe Izumi-chan is right. A Live against fine sounds like an awful lot of work,” he admits. “Maybe we’d be better off telling them Ou-sama isn’t up to it. Knights can always recover next year, when I’ve got Tsukasa-chan all to myse~elf~”

 

“Narukami-sempai—can you please refrain from using ‘-chan’ as an honorific for me? It’s very disconcerting.”

 

Izumi switches legs, glaring into the mirror as he does. “If we turn them down, we’re not blaming Ou-sama for it,” he curtly says. “I’ll deal with it. Don’t submit anything yet, Kasa-kun. Just leave the file in my locker. Oi, Naru-kun?”

 

“Eh? You need someone to fold your leg up over your head, Izumi-chan?” Arashi asks sweetly, drifting closer to Izumi’s position on the bar, stepping over Ritsu’s newly-slumbering form.

 

“Next year, if you run Knights into the ground as badly as I have, I’ll hunt your ass down.”

 

Arashi raises his hands innocently. “If you think I’m going to be the leader of Knights next year, you have far more belief in my work ethic than I have,” he says around a little smile. “I’ll leave that to the powerfully motivated, like Tsukasa-chan here.”

 

“They won’t let second years do it. Read the unit handbook.” That had always been a source of contention in the past, but Arashi wouldn’t know about that, or the frustration that always used to seep from Leo on a daily basis. “And Kuma-kun’s not gonna do it, so if you’re complicit in another shitty year for Knights, I’m coming for you.” Izumi turns, back to the bar and facing Arashi, and lifts one leg half-way. “Go ahead and help me fold it up, I know you want to.”

 

Arashi sighs, grabbing Izumi’s ankle as he’s been taught in the past, hoisting it up over his head to help him get that weirdly impressive stretch. “I’m probably going to be just as bad at it as you were,” he says softly, looking at himself in the mirror because, well, there’s nothing more beautiful to look at. “Look at the track club.”

 

“What about them?” Izumi resists the urge to lean back onto his other heel, annoyed at how stiff he feels still. “At least you all get along and seem happy. Naru-kun, you like people way more than I do. It’s gonna be hard to be as shitty as I was. Let go, we’re doing the other one.”

 

“I like people just fine, it’s only hard work that I have a problem with...”

 

Arashi shrugs, then lifts Izumi’s other leg above his head. “It’s really unfair that you can bend like this, you know. What the hell, I stretch after track club practice and I can’t do any of that.”

 

“Liking people is most of the job. Knights can run itself because we’re popular and hot, but if you don’t want to deal with actually doing the meet and greets and the appearances half the time…” Izumi trails off and stares Arashi directly in the eye, leaning back against the dance bar. “When I was younger, my dance teacher used to make me put my legs over the top of a chair, tie weights to my ankles, and press down on them until my legs extended properly. Wanna try it?”

 

“Your dance teacher is definitely a pervert,” Arashi says, flapping a hand dismissively. “ _Totally_ just a pervert who wanted to see your legs up over your head.”

 

“Yeah, probably, but now I’m this flexible, so it’s a win-win.” Izumi drops his legs forward, amusing himself by letting it rest on Arashi’s shoulder. “You’ve also got the advantage of not having someone like Yuu-kun to distract you, you know. I think I would’ve been okay at all of this otherwise.” _Even if this unit was always supposed to be Ou-sama’s, every single bit of it._

 

“Yeah...I don’t think you would have been,” Arashi says cheerfully. “It’s not like you ever booked us for lives or did paperwork, even when you weren’t distracted.”

 

“Fuck you. I booked us lives.” _Ou-sama just wouldn’t focus enough to sign off on a lot of them._ “And Kasa-kun’s in charge of paperwork, he likes it that way.” Izumi lowers his leg, glancing aside and lowering his voice. Ritsu might be asleep, but Tsukasa is still around, sorting fanmail like his life depends on it. “…Be serious for a moment and tell me if I’m being too protective about this whole fine thing.”

 

Arashi looks around as well, lowering his voice to the same level, leaning forward to rest a shoulder against the mirror. “He signed up for it,” he points out. “I wouldn’t say it looks protective. More like you think you know what’s best for him and he doesn’t. You want to look out for that, if you guys are...you know.”

 

Izumi worries at his lower lip, letting his head thunk back against the glass. “I don’t want it to come off like that. It’s more along the lines of…he still clams up about Tenshouin, and I don’t know what’s going to happen if we’re all on stage together again. I get that maybe he wants to face the guy and maybe get it out of the way once and for all, but Tenshouin has more up his sleeve and…” He trails off, exhaling a frustrated sound. “Ou-sama’s said he wants me to be the one to figure out how to crush the guy,” he finally admits.

 

Arashi’s eyebrows raise, and he purses his lips, thinking. “I mean, I don’t think he’d like you refusing the challenge if that’s the case...maybe he sent the challenge but didn’t accept the live because he wanted you to do it? I dunno, I can never figure that guy out.”

 

“I’m gonna kill him.” Izumi sighs, shutting his eyes and banging his head back against the mirror again. “Be glad you’re dating a dumbass, geniuses are tough.”

 

Arashi inspects his nails for any chipping. “You get one warning because you’re my friend, Izumi-chan,” he says sweetly.

 

“Yeah, yeah, I was testing you.” Izumi shoves at Arashi’s shoulder half-heartedly before twisting back around onto the dance bar. “Kasa-kun.”

 

Tsukasa glances up. “Yes, Sena-sempai?”

 

“Hand that live paperwork over now, I’ll go ahead and deal with it.” Because if he doesn’t, they’re all going to have a very miserable king on their hands.

 


	10. Chapter 10

_Three Years Ago_

 

Izumi does not want to be here.

 

First and foremost, he dislikes the cold. Why in the world would this stupid school hold meet and greets on a day that’s this chilly? _At least bring it inside,_ Izumi darkly thinks, hiking up his scarf higher, partially obscuring his face and trying not to shiver down to his toes.

 

The sky is grey over Yumenosaki, threatening snow—the earliest snow in years, all the weather channels report, and Izumi had to be forced out of bed with that in mind for orientation. His favorite soft, fur-lined leggings are normally a solid buffer against the cold, at least, but a new habit makes them uncomfortable and overstimulating when they rub against stinging skin, making him wish he’d stuck down a few bandaids before getting dressed. _No one can notice, no one is looking at you_. That’s the only relief he has, and he draws his coat tighter around himself, moodily taking in the sights of the school he never wanted to attend.

 

His mother had begged him. After hearing about the unfortunate accident Miki had met up with at his agency, her mind had clearly gone off on a tangent, assuming everything bad that could happen to _him._ _What if you upset someone and they hit you, what if you fall when you’re dancing, modeling can’t be everything!_ She’s missing the point entirely, of course, because modeling _isn’t_ everything to him. It’s a welcome reprieve—or it had been, until Makoto had left—but dancing is where his mind wants to linger, even if that, too, had been something he’d been forced to step away from just a month ago. _If you stop dancing, just for a little while, you’ll feel better, it won’t be so much pressure._

 

That doesn’t stop Izumi from still knowing how to skip meals and drink enough water that his stomach stops rumbling around his parents, and he does feel guilty about that, he honestly does.

 

Today, though, he’s at a school his mother pushed him to attend, staring down units that his agent pushed him to consider, and the irony of being here to ‘get away from the pressure’ stares back at him.

 

Knights is the name of the unit that his agent was _especially_ excited about, and Izumi is immediately skeptical upon staring at the crowds around the booth. Well, at least she was right about one thing—it’s popular, extremely so, and…is apparently attracting girls even on orientation day? Weird. Honestly, the only _good_ thing about this school was that it was for boys only, and Izumi tries not to turn his nose up in annoyance. “Oi, you’re in the way,” he mutters, grabbing the girl by the shoulder to push her out of the way. What kind of girl has hair _that_ bright these days, anyway? That would never fly at his agency.

 

“Wuaaaahhh!” Tsukinaga Leo falls promptly onto his ass, blinking up dazedly at the person who’d thrown him cruelly to the ground. Well, fine, it had just been a bit of a touch to the shoulder, but it had taken him by surprise when he was thinking about music, which should be against the law. Don’t the people here have any respect for music?

 

“Oi, you,” he snaps, climbing to his feet with a growl in his throat, straightening the floppy fleece hat on his head. “You think you’re better than music? Just because you’re beautiful?”

 

Wait—fuck, that’s _not_ a girl, judging by the voice, though Izumi does have to stare a moment longer to make sure of it. It’s pretty rare that he finds another guy around his age that’s not only shorter than him, but just as slim, and—“I _barely_ touched you, what the hell,” he blurts out instead of apologizing. Staring down into this kid’s face is an experience, and he doesn’t mean that in a bad way. Enormous green eyes, bright coppery hair, pale skin, high cheekbones, lips that really need some chapstick but…hm. _Actually, if this is what idol school is all about, thanks, Mama._ “What are you even talking about? There’s not any music playing.”

 

“Eh? That’s what you think--then you don’t know anything, haha!” Leo’s eyes are bright and intent, and he leans in, hands suddenly splaying across Izumi’s chest, face bare centimeters away from Izumi’s. “Music is everywhere, can’t you hear it? Hmm, ta-ta, hu-hu-hu...ah...” He tilts his head slightly, a smile slowly widening on his face. “I can see it in your eyes. You’re special, ha! I’m going to let you see all of my genius, I’ve decided!”

 

Izumi is pretty used to being touched without his consent, but this is…something else. Is this the hot-to-crazy ratio that some of his sempai have joked about at the agency? _Definitely_ , Izumi thinks, grabbing the other guy’s hands to remove them as he takes a step back, his face flushing. “Do you always just go up to people and touch them like that?” he asks, huffing out a breath that turns white in the air. “I don’t want to see your genius or whatever—I don’t _know_ you.”

 

“You will, you will! Haha, no universe could be so cruel as to put us together then tear us apart!”

 

Some shred of reason seems to reassert itself in Leo’s eyes, and he steps back, taking a deep breath, then bowing quickly--not a proper Japanese bow, but a low-swept European version. “Tsukinaga Leo,” he introduces himself, looking back up into Izumi’s face. “I need to know your name, if you’re going to be my inspiration. I’m so glad you’re coming to Yumenosaki!”

 

 _So it’s not just Yuu-kun._ That’s a horrific thought to have when his heart thuds hard in his chest, loud enough that he’s so sure this weird kid can hear it. This is bound to happen a million more times at an all boy’s school, he tells himself. Time to get used to it. “…S…Sena Izumi,” he manages. He has no idea what to even _say_ to someone calling him their inspiration—in English at that, what the hell—so he decides to just not react. “You’re a first year, too, I guess? What class?”

 

“1-A. Sena Izumi--you’re in my class, I looked at the list!” Leo pulls back, stuffing his hands in his pockets, eyes dancing. “Are you joining Knights, too? I already talked to one more person who is. It’s going to be a very beautiful unit!”

 

“Do you tell every single person you meet that they’re beautiful?” Izumi snaps, visibly ruffled now. He adjusts his scarf, pulling it tighter. If they’re in the same class, this is just going to _continue_ , isn’t it? “My agent wants me to join Knights, but I dunno. She just wants me to because it’s super popular or something, but I wanted something more focused on dance.”

 

“You have to join,” Leo says, as if it’s obvious, and pulls out his phone, flipping to a photograph of Sakuma Ritsu that he’d taken ten minutes earlier. “Look! With you and me and him, we’ll be ice and night and fire! Wahaha! And I can dance too!”

 

Izumi is decidedly skeptical as he leans over to get a look at the picture, but then—“Wait, I know him. He’s with another modeling group.” Izumi snorts, shoving his cold hands into his coat pockets. “I mean _real_ dance, by the way. Not this dumb boyband stuff.”

 

“It won’t be dumb when we do it.” Leo tucks his phone in his pocket and grabs at Izumi’s wrists, then his hands, squeezing them tightly, so much colder than his own. “We’ll be shining Knights. We’ll build something that our enemies will tremble to behold. This veteran unit will bow to us, and everyone will be glad when we’re near, terrified when we’re angry, amazed when we perform--you and me, Sena.”

 

Leo’s hands _honestly_ feel like they’re radiating fire compared to his own, and Izumi swallows, suddenly feeling much warmer than he had been a second ago. It’s less Leo’s touch, more the heat that rises to his face, and he suddenly feels so awkward that he can’t even jerk his hands away. “…That doesn’t sound like the kinda shit a knight talks about,” he manages to rasp, unsure why he’s letting himself get drawn into this hype other than _he’s pretty, he’s warm, he’s talking to me like he likes me._ “You’re more suited to be a stupid king. Ugh, you say my name weird, you know.”

 

“I’m making it mine,” Leo says, without a trace of hesitation or embarrassment. He leans in close, eyes like fire, as if he isn’t some twiggy short fourteen-year-old wearing a floppy fleece hat. “I’ll be your king. But you’ll have to swear allegiance to me, Sena. My brave knight, you know?”

 

There’s that obnoxious way his heart beats too hard again. Leo is _way_ too close to him, way too much in his personal space, in a way that normally, Izumi would punch someone for, but… “F-fine!” he sputters out, freeing a hand and shoving it into Leo’s face to get some distance between the two of them. “Whatever, I’ll join! If you’re gonna say my name weird, I’ll come up with a way to say your name, too. ‘Tsukinaga’ is way too cool for you. How do you even write ‘Leo’?” He snatches out his phone, ready to put this weirdo in his contacts even if he’s starting to have regrets.

 

“Like Le-o,” Leo says cheerfully. “Le like Le, and O like O. Hey, you smell like blood. That’s good luck!”

 

Izumi’s head jerks up, and he stares at Leo for a long moment. He squints. _Right, chill out, he can’t smell me._ _Is everyone at this school gonna be this weird?_ He’s not sure he can handle it if that’s the case. “…Like, in kana only? With an actual ‘L’? Are you half or something?” Leo doesn’t look mixed, but most people don’t think he is, either, until he mentions modeling and _then_ they realize he’s not wearing contacts. “Whatever. If you’re trying to be a stupid king, then that’s what you’ll be—‘Ou-sama,’” he mutters, typing it into his phone in katakana instead of the usual kanji. “What’s your Line? Type it in.”

 

Leo’s fingers fly over the keys until his picture shows up, a cartoon version of his own face beaming widely. “My sister drew my icon,” he says proudly, handing it back. “Ruka-tan. She’s the cutest in the entire planet, you know--I love her. Here, look--” He pulls out his phone, accepts the new contact request, and shoves the phone in Izumi’s face, open to a picture of Ruka. “She’s perfect! Look how cute she is! And she’s really smart, too!”

 

“…She looks just like you, it’s kinda creepy,” Izumi bluntly says. “Are you twins or something?”

 

“I wish. Then it wouldn’t be weird if we shared a room. But I’m her cool, awesome, strong, smart big brother.” Leo grins, and puts the phone away. “It’s illegal to think she’s not cute, but you can’t think she’s too pretty. That’s the law of Knights, as soon as we take it over.”

 

“Sure, whatever.” Izumi will fully admit he doesn’t know how to deal with people that have _siblings._ The only person that has ever called him Onii-chan…well, that’s a different feeling than siblings entirely. “I dunno why you think we’re gonna take over. I have no experience with this kind of thing, I’m only here because my mom made me.”

 

“Because we are. It’s destiny, Sena!”

 

A loud alarm sounds, and Leo starts so hard his coat and hat both fall off of him somehow. “Wahhh! Time for another performance, I guess. Sena, you should come to my house later.”

 

 _Pass_ is on the tip of Izumi’s tongue, easy and dismissive, but he sighs instead, stooping down to pick up the idiot’s clothes. “Are you rabid?” he asks with a roll of his eyes, smushing the hat down into place so that he doesn’t look at Leo too hard. He’s cute when his hair frizzes courtesy of the hat and cold air. “Text me details and I’ll think about it. I guess I better go finish signing up for now.”

 

“I have to see our future senpai perform. It’s time for a revolution!”

 

“You go do that, Ou-sama.” It’s sarcastic on his tongue, and Izumi hopes Leo hears that. “See you later, I guess.”

 

~

 

Weeks pass, Izumi avoids and ignores, and that’s for the best.

 

As curious as he is about Tsukinaga Leo, it’s not necessary for him to be dragged into every single one of his schemes. He certainly has a lot of them in mind, most of which their sempai aren’t interested in. Watching the frustration of being stifled boil over in Leo makes him antsy as well, but Izumi keeps his mouth shut. Knights is the perfect unit for those already working in the industry; you don’t _have_ to dedicate yourself to it, you just have to show up for performances, and be pretty.

 

Leo seems to have missed that memo.

 

Today, he also seems to be more scattered than usual, leaving an enormous pile of sheet music in his wake, plus or minus bits of his performance uniform. It needs to be laundered, courtesy of his rolling around on the classroom floor, and as no one else seems to care about the mess, Izumi scowls as he picks up after the idiot, stuffing it all into his own bag.

 

**To: Ou-sama**

**Subject: hey**

**you left your stuff at school. sempai’s gonna be pissed if you show up to the live without it, what’s your address?**

 

**To: Sena**

**Subject: !!!!!!**

**THANK U OMG SO MUCH UR TH BEST I LOVE YOU!!!!! <3 <3 ,3**

 

**To: Sena**

**Subject: O RITE**

**5-14-21 Setagaya**

 

 _Stop telling people you love them so casually,_ Izumi exasperatedly thinks, and keys the address into his GPS, curious to see what sort of moat and castle-type dungeon the fool lives in.

 

It seems smack in the middle of a very normal neighborhood, which is strange.

 

He’d expected Tsukinaga Leo to be made of money, at least. He acts like an eccentric rich kid, and there’s no shortage of those at Yumenosaki. The house that he eventually finds himself in front of, however, is decidedly middle class—nice, but so, so _normal_. He frowns, checking the address again before walking up to the door and warily ringing the doorbell.

 

“I got it!”

 

The sound of feet thundering down the stairs filters through the door, followed by the door flying open. Leo stands in the doorway, wearing sweatpants and a t-shirt with a cartoon character printed on the front. His face lights up, but the manic light is empty from his eyes. “Sena, hi! Thanks for bringing the music. Come on in, shoes on the shelf, please.”

 

Izumi blinks, stumbling a little as he steps into the house, entirely thrown off by the _normal_ cadence of Leo’s voice. “Ah…yeah,” he manages, toeing off his shoes. “It’s no problem. Um, I don’t have to stay if you’re busy or whatever.”

 

Around the hallway corner, another head of fluffy ginger hair peeks out, green eyes wide and huge. Izumi tilts his head to get a better look, and the head disappears with a flustered squeak.

 

“Ruka-tan,” Leo explains fondly, and shuts the door behind Izumi when he comes in. “Don’t scare her. Ah...it’s fine. If you want, you can come up to my room.” It’s hard to look casual when he wants Izumi to come up _so much_ , after a week of nothing but his family.

 

“She’s cute.” That’s an appropriate compliment for someone’s little sister, right? He hopes so. It’s not like he sucks at talking to girls, just _about_ girls. “I can come up for a bit.” Izumi shifts the bag on his shoulder. “You write a _lot,_ you know?”

 

“Yeah, I know.” Leo looks like he wants to say something else, but he looks over his shoulder, where a middle-aged woman is chopping vegetables in the kitchen. “Mom, my friend is here,” he calls. “We’re gonna head up to my room.”

 

She wipes her hands on a nearby towel, walking to the kitchen door briefly. “Ah, hello, don’t mind the mess. Leo, you should have told me someone was coming! You think I can just add another plate for dinner like that?”

 

“Sorry...”

 

“Sorry for the intrusion,” Izumi automatically says, offering up a quick bow. If there’s one thing he knows how to do, it’s fake nice with parents. “Please don’t worry about dinner. I have a lot of allergies, so I’m not allowed to eat it unless my mom makes it, anyway.” It’s an excuse that rarely fails, thankfully.

 

“Oh. Run along up to your room, then.”

 

Leo waits until they’re out of earshot to mutter, “You could at least pretend to be disappointed,” before tugging Izumi up the stairs to his room, opening the door and shutting it behind the both of them.

 

The room is also startlingly normal. There are a few piles of sheet music here and there, but the bed is made, if slightly rumpled. There’s a desk with a squeaky chair, a cheap boombox, a desktop computer a few years old, and a few posters on the walls. One is of Mozart, overlaid with some English text about believing in yourself. Another is the current generation of Knights. A third is a soccer team. Leo flops down on he bed, then grins. “Sena, I’m so glad you came! Ahhhh, Uchuu~!” With that, he launches himself at Izumi, trying to wrap his arms around him and going in for a kiss.

 

 _That’s_ more like the Leo he’s come to know, and Izumi’s prepared for it, grabbing Leo by the shoulders and keeping him at an arm’s length. “You’re so _weird_ ,” he complains, giving Leo a firm shake back and forth, watching his ponytail bounce as he does. “Don’t just try to kiss people. Geez, what’s up with you? You were acting so _normal_ that it was freaking me out.” His room is an extension of that, apparently; it’s all sorts of creepy to see someone like Leo living in such an average setting.

 

Leo blinks. “What, around my mom? Doesn’t everyone act different around their parents?” He doesn’t protest the shaking. If anything, he seems to enjoy it, letting his head roll forward and backward with each shake.

 

“Uhh…I mean, yeah, but in a way that’s positive, you know? Like, aren’t you supposed to be able to _relax_ around your parents?” Izumi shakes him a few more times before releasing Leo with a huff and letting him fall back onto the bed. “Do you not want them to know you’re some kind of a musical genius? My mom would think that was cool.”

 

“Eh...they’d think it was weird.” Leo shrugs, a little uncomfortable with this line of questioning. “Ha, this is why I don’t invite most people over. I thought Sena would be a good change, though. Hey, hey, listen to this!”

 

Undaunted, he throws himself off of the bed and over to the computer hitting ‘play,’ and a stream of midi notes starts to filter through the air. “I had inspiration!”

 

Izumi drops it, not exactly content with the explanation, but it isn’t as if he doesn’t get it. Hiding things from his parents has become the norm, no matter how guilty he feels about it. It’s just less his entire personality and more bad habits. “Sounds like that thing you were humming all of yesterday,” he idly notes, unzipping his bag to fish out all of Leo’s forgotten sheet music…and most of his Knights uniform. There’s an undershirt that Izumi discreetly shoves deeper into the bag in the process. “I bet if you harassed our senpai about it, they’d let you actually record something.”

 

Leo makes a face. “Those guys--they’re cool, sure, but they don’t like first years being ‘uppity.’ They want us to be good little background dancers--have you read the handbook? I’m not even _allowed_ to be the leader until third year! Arrrrrrr!!!” It’s a weird little growling sound that comes out, and he kicks back in his chair, feet thumping.

 

“Are you a five year old?” Izumi deadpans, plopping down onto the edge of Leo’s bed. The frame makes a creaky sound that makes him wary. Is _this_ what middle class beds are like? What Makoto sleeps on must be so much worse these days. “Plotting your takeover in front of them by arguing with them all the time is gonna piss them off, obviously. If you want to get their attention, we have the same access to all the studios that they do. Just record something and make friends with the broadcasting committee to get it out there, then no one has a choice but to listen to you. Once they realize you can compose, they’ll probably be happy about it; less work on them, less money spent with producers…”

 

Leo’s eyes glaze, then focus, far sharper this time. “Oi...Sena...you’ve put a lot of thought into this kind of thing.”

 

He launches himself forward, kneeling in front of Izumi, grabbing Izumi’s face. “Are you sly? Are you a devious person, Sena? I think deep down, you’re a cunning, but very loving person. That’s what I think! I think I’m going to write you a song. You figure out how to get it famous. Wahaha!”

 

“W…what the hell are you talking about?” Izumi sputters, swatting Leo’s hands away. Joining Yumenosaki has been terrible for his blood pressure. With modeling and dancing, sure, people touched him all the time, but they were rarely cute, nice-smelling boys, and so this has been a _crisis_. “Don’t write me a song, idiot. Write yourself one, you’re the one that can actually sing. It’s not like I’ve been thinking about this for awhile or anything, I don’t know what I’m doing.”

 

“Nonsense--I don’t write for myself. I write for the people I love! Want to hear the one I wrote for Ruka-tan last night?” Leo flops back to the computer, putting on a song that’s actually recorded this time, with full accompaniment. “A friend of mine plays piano. That’s me singing.”

 

“Then write a song for me and sing it yourself, obviously,” Izumi mutters, leaning back onto his hands and shutting up long enough to listen. “That’s…you’re actually pretty good.” He’s used to a lot of people proclaiming to be geniuses and then being genuinely terrible, so it’s a relief to actually hear Leo’s music and not be annoyed. “I don’t see why our senpai wouldn’t want to consider your music, at least.” _You have a nice voice, that’s not fair._

 

Leo sways his head in time with the music, then carefully stands, still swaying side to side. Suddenly, he starts to dance, steps that he’s obviously worked on several times before, while he hums the melody currently playing. The dancing isn’t anything incredible, but it’s a cute little step sequence that fits the music, not paying attention to anything else.

 

 _And you’re cute, that’s the worst._ Izumi watches for a few bars before he can’t help himself and climbs to his feet, hitting the space bar on Leo’s keyboard to pause the music and backtracking it to the last verse. “I know it’s for Knights, but you can make it a little sexier. It’s all in the hips for this kind of thing.” He starts the music again, and his hands drop to Leo’s hips, coaxing the looser, more casual movement out of him. “Girls want you to be really flirty, you know? And you’ve got that kind of face, so it’s easy for you.”

 

“You’re right!”

 

Leo laughs, but he relaxes his hips into Izumi’s hands, letting him move both of them. The music threads through both of them, a heady thing that makes him grin recklessly, hips canting with each step of their feet. “Ahhh, I knew you’d be a great dancer. I could tell by your legs. Nnh, I have a sexier song, if you want to hear it?”

 

Izumi opens his mouth to brag about how he’s done ballet since he could walk, but that rarely has the desired effect, especially with other guys. Also—“Why have you been looking at my legs?” he exasperatedly asks, shoving Leo away. “Yeah, put it on, why not.”

 

The next song is decidedly different, and the tempo changes to something more sultry, a few more instrumental tones adding in their melodies. “I think Knights is going to be a lot more R-18 now that Sena is here,” he says, a smile spreading slowly across his face. “You’ll drag people into hell with your hips.”

 

“Yeah, like they’ll let that happen on stage,” Izumi scoffs, rolling his eyes at the thought. “Knights is like, the safe choice for girls, right? No stripper moves.” He taps his foot for a moment, contemplative, and lets his hips automatically sway to the beat before arching his back to bend low and sinuously arch back up, head thrown back. “Like that. Heh, though we’d definitely snatch up some of the older crowd.”

 

Leo sits down hard on the bed, eyes wide, watching Izumi’s undulation. “Whoa,” he breathes, and changes the song again, to one he hasn’t played before. This one is a bit more in-line with the classic Knights sound, but is unfamiliar, still. Leo seems almost shy when he pushes play. “If you don’t want it, I’ll rewrite it for Ritsu.”

 

“I already told you, I’m not really a singer.” Izumi doesn’t outright turn him down, though, his tongue wetting his lower lip as he listens. It’s annoying to admit that Knights’ music—Leo’s music—is the kind of shit he’d be listening to, anyway, but at least now he gets it for free, and conveniently shoved in his direction at any given point. “I mean,” he mutters, folding his arms. “It’s nice. All your stuff is.” _It’s way better than our current set_ is on the tip of his tongue, but it’s not quite time to slander their senpai, is it?

 

“Knights is going to be _so_ good next year when I can do whatever I want,” Leo says, without a hint of humility. “Then you can really call me Ou-sama, and I can take care of you all.”

 

There’s a knock on the door, and Leo curls up, legs tucking politely under him in a second. “What, Mom?”

 

“I brought snacks if you boys want,” comes the muffled response. “Does your friend like rice cakes?”

 

“Just leave ‘em, we’ll eat! You don’t have to,” Leo finishes in a murmur. “I’ll eat ‘em all.”

 

Izumi plops back down onto the bed next to Leo. “I’m not really allergic to everything, I’m just picky.” It’s another lie, but less of one. “I just hate having to explain that every time.” He fiddles with the edge of the comforter, glancing down. “I still don’t see any reason why you can’t start pushing to be more involved now. If you’re gonna do something, do it right or not at all.”

 

“That’s very much the Sena way, isn’t it?” Leo asks, flipping the desk chair around to sit astride it. “You do something right, or not at all? That must be why you’re so stressed all the time!”

 

“Who the hell’s stressed?” Izumi snaps back automatically. “This school is easy mode, I’m losing my mind not having anything to _do_.”

 

“Eh? Nothing to do?” Leo spins on his chair in one squeaky circle, eyes ticked up in contemplation. “How can that be true, though? I’ve heard you sing, you’re so bad at it!”

 

Izumi flushes and leans back defensively. “Yeah, well. I’ve never sung in front of anyone else before. That’s why I keep telling you I’m not a singer, idiot.”

 

“If you’re going to be in Knights, you’re going to be,” Leo says without a hint of doubt. “And you’re going to take over it with me, because you’re _my_ brave Knight. So we’ve got to be good--I’ll write you songs!”

 

 _You’re_ my _brave Knight._ It’s annoying how those words send a weird, tingly shiver down his spine. Izumi struggles to blame it on how casually possessive they sound, and how distractingly cute Leo is. _Ugh._ “…I’ll talk to my mom about voice lessons again,” he mutters. “She already made me take a hiatus from modeling _and_ ballet, so I dunno what she’ll think. Don’t write me songs until I’m good, though, or I won’t sing them.”

 

“I can’t be stopped!” Leo laughs, swiveling back around the other way so his chair doesn’t destruct. He’s not doing that again, not while his mom would hear the crash. “Hey, Senaaa...what do you think of an all-boys’ school? I’d like Ruka-tan to go to an all-girls’ school.”

 

“It’s fine, I guess.” Izumi hesitates, tugging out his phone, needing something to fiddle with if he’s going to continue this conversation. “It’s not like I miss being around girls that much.”

 

“I miss the candy,” Leo says bluntly. “Girls always used to bring me candy. That was so nice. Hey, Sena...you should bring me candy. You’re as pretty as a girl!”

 

“You’ll get fat,” Izumi flatly says. It would be cool if he’d stop having heart palpitations every single time Leo compliments him. _Stop it already, it’s nothing you haven’t heard before_ —except it was usually from girls, or from people in the industry, and Izumi has no clue how to respond other than a grumpy, “What kind of candy do you even like?”

 

Leo swivels around again, grabbing a few markers from the top of his desk and starting a composition. “Sena...hmm...I like chocolate, of course! And cake. My metabolism is very high, so don’t worry! Ooh--you know you have the deepest voice of anyone in Knights, even though you’re a little dancer? I love it!”

 

“Yeah, I know. I hate my voice. You know, being called little by someone shorter than me doesn’t hold a lot of weight.” He’s going to go home and make a fucking cake, isn’t he? At least his mom will be thrilled, but that’s beside the point. “What kind of chocolate? Or are you one of those guys that’ll eat anything?”

 

“Nothing with a face,” Leo says immediately. “But anything else. Oi, don’t make your voice get higher, okay? I’m gonna write you something down low, where it’s all...mm, husky, and tingly. The girls’ll love it!”

 

“Yeah, they eat that kinda stuff up, don’t they.”

 

**To: Mama**

**Subject:**

**do we have stuff to make chocolate cake in the house??**

 

This is what his life is becoming, apparently, including a casual, throw-away inquiry of: “Do you have a girlfriend?”

 

“A girlfriend? Hahaha!” Leo doesn’t look up from the music he’s composing, even to say that to Izumi’s face. “Idols aren’t supposed to, right? So that girls don’t get jealous, and we can keep being everyone’s Knights?”

 

**To: Izumi**

**Subject: <3**

**Do you want me to make you a cake? I can put the purple sprinkles that you like on it.**

 

**To: Mama**

**Subject: nooo**

**i’m asking because i want to make it it’s a school thing**

 

“You can say that all you want, but idols still sneak around if they can get away with it. There were a few girls at my agency that had boyfriends.”

 

“Sena, are you saying you want to be a Knight that breaks all the rules?” Leo straightens up, looking at the paper he’s been scribbling on with a critical eye, then passes it over. “What do you think? I’m a genius, right?”

 

“What? No, I don’t want to date girls, I was just asking if _you_ had a—never mind, forget it.” Leo’s scribbling is certainly…something else. It’s actually a miracle that it’s legible at all. “The lyrics are already better than the stuff our senpai make us sing. Seriously, I’ll back you up if you want to bring something to them.” It’s not that he cares; watching Leo be frustrated just makes everything more annoying, that’s all.

 

“Yeah! Ahhh, I’ll bring them myself, I just have to...work up to it.” Leo turns around, and flushes slightly, biting his bottom lip. “It’s...not cool for a genius to be worried about being rejected, is it?”

 

 _I’m doomed,_ Izumi realizes the second something in his chest clenches, and he shrugs, trying to be casual as he shoves the paper back to Leo. “If they reject you, it’s because they’re idiots, not because you aren’t a genius. Anyone with eyes can see what you are, Ou-sama.”

 

“Eh?”

 

Leo looks at the paper, then back to Izumi, brow furrowing in confusion. “What am I, Sena?” he asks, the words imbued with far too much gravity for a fourteen year old boy swiveling around on a squeaky desk chair.

 

“…You’re a king, dumbass.”

 

The words make Izumi’s cheeks flush, and he hates himself for getting caught up in the whirlwind that is Tsukinaga Leo, with every single one of his ludicrous ideas and make-believe games. It doesn’t _feel_ like a game when Leo says it, though; _you’re_ my _Knight_ is a phrase that still makes Izumi’s pulse jump, for whatever reason. “Act like it, so everyone starts paying attention.”

 

Slowly, as if it’s his own oath, Leo nods, almost formally. Then the spell is broken, and he flops over onto the back of the chair, face pillowed on his hands. “I’m dying. Starving. If Ruka-tan really loved me, she’d cook for me...can you cook, Sena?”

 

“Yeah. My mom and I always cook together.” There are a few other things he’d like to say— _I’d make you a bento if I didn’t think you’d try to kiss me in public, weirdo_ is one of those—but Izumi bites his tongue, straightening to his feet and grabbing his bag. “I’ll head out so you can go eat dinner.” He leans over, compulsively pulling on Leo’s ponytail. “Try not to have too much inspiration when I’m not around, Ou-sama.”

 

“Okay. Hey, Sena?” Leo stands, stretching, and pitches forward, thunking his head against Izumi’s shoulder. “I’m way more inspired when you’re around. Want me to walk you out?”

 

Leo has got to stop touching him so casually, or he’s going to have a stroke. “Sure, whatever,” Izumi mutters, ruffling Leo’s hair until it’s thoroughly mussed. He’s so warm that Izumi feels inclined to keep petting him, but that’s dangerous, so he withdraws his hand as soon as it seems natural.

 

Leo squeaks, then growls, a high-pitched rumbling that doesn’t succeed at being very threatening. “Ooooi, rude! You’ve gotta show your king some respect!”

 

Izumi stares down at him, eyebrows raising. “Did you just…did you just growl at me? Ou-sama, you sound like a yappy little dog when you do that.”

 

“Eh? Ahahaha!” Leo’s face brightens into a smile, and he hugs Izumi suddenly around the shoulders, squeezing tight before he lets go. “You’re always surprising, Sena. You’re interesting, for sure.”

 

“That’s enough out of you,” Izumi grouses, shoving Leo towards the bedroom door. “Let me go home so you can get back to work. Write a good song and I’ll choreograph it, got it?”

 

“Of course! I always use genius where I find it. And your body is part of my arsenal now!”

 

That’s not erotic or anything. Izumi shuts up at that, fleeing the second Leo leads him downstairs, fully aware that he still has the idiot king’s undershirt hidden away in his bag. _It’s going to be one of those nights._

 


	11. Chapter 11

_They don’t need me._

 

His Knights have grown powerful in his absence, and more now that he’s returned. Leo’s costume is a beautiful thing, well-fitted and shining, but it chafes him nonetheless. He’d shown up early, but hung back, the hood of his sweatshirt pulled up over his head to hide the telltale flash of his hair. The costume is scratching his wrists and waist, and he stands at the back of the growing crowd, watching with pride as all the seats start to fill. All those people are here to see _his Knights_ , to see them rise to the occasion, to see them overtake fine at long last. Izumi has planned a good Live, he thinks, and the marketing has been well-planned. Just now, the idea that fine will be able to triumph seems farfetched indeed, and he starts walking toward the stage with pride.

 

Then Suou Tsukasa comes out, proud and getting taller by the day, eyes alight as he riles up the crowd in a mix of Japanese and English. Girls scream. Arashi scolds them, and they scream louder. Ritsu strikes a pose, and one girl faints. Izumi snaps at the lot of them, and penlights wave frantically.

 

Then they launch into the first song, one he’d written in his darkest days, thinking of his proud, strong, brave Knights, and Leo realizes how little they need him. He can’t imagine it, standing up on that stage, letting the rest of them rally around him, using him as their guiding moon amongst the stars.

 

_They don’t need me._

 

The thought is staggering, and he turns, ashamed to have it, heart thudding, palms sweating at the idea of going up there. His costume digs into his wrists, and he starts walking towards the gate, letting his friends have their moment, unsullied by his own personal ambition.

 

“Onii-chan?”

 

Few would be able to pick out Tsukinaga Leo from the crowds, but it doesn’t take a flash of bright hair for his own sister to recognize him. She’s wrapped in a heavy winter peacoat, clutching her own pair of penlights with a plastic bag (stamped with the tell-tale Knights’ fanclub emblem) hanging from her wrist. It’s the only reason she’s late and this far back into the crowd—normally she’d arrive early, but the lines were so much _longer_ than usual, the hype of this Live that much higher. Ruka frowns and reaches out, grabbing at his sleeve. “You…you aren’t _leaving_ , are you?”

 

Leo blanches, feet shuffling to a stop in front of his sister. It’s not his usual reaction to seeing her--usually he’s screaming about how cute she is, but just now...

 

He rubs the back of his neck. “They don’t need me,” he mutters, looking down at his feet. “Look, they’re doing a really good job.”

 

“…But so many people came to see you.” Ruka’s brow furrows, her fingers tightening on her brother’s sleeve. “Onii-chan…are you…do you…do you have stage fright, too?”

 

“Eh? Me? Stage fright?” _No way!_ Leo wants to say, and throw his head back and laugh. But...how can he laugh, when this is Ruka-tan? He’s got to be strong for her, sure--but if _she_ can overcome stage fright, what does he have to complain about? He jams his hands in the pockets of his sweater, and the coarse fabric of the trim of his coat rubs his wrists raw. It isn’t meant to be worn under anything. “How would I know?”

 

Ruka’s mouth slowly twists into a pout. “You’re not going up on stage,” she points out, folding her arms. “Onii-chan, do you know how long the line was for _your_ stuff in particular? Everyone wants to see you, you can’t just not go.”

 

The next song starts, but it’s one that Ruka knows well, so she turns back to her brother after a quick glance. “You’re…you’re going to make everyone sad, you know,” she says softly. “Like before, when you wouldn’t even come out of your room.”

 

Guilt steals over Leo like another hood, settling heavy around his shoulders, creeping up the back of his neck. “But they...don’t need me,” he says again, words sounding hollow to his own ears. “And I make them nervous, and...they’ve worked so hard, it’d be such a shame if I distracted them. Look, they’ll all sing together, they sound good in harmony.” It’s a song he’d written Izumi, but Izumi always gets nervous, and puts on the instrumentals of the group version instead, wanting the backup.

 

“Onii-chan…sometimes you’re kind of…” Ruka hesitates. “Dumb.”

 

The song continues, and the first verse—one she knows by heart as usually sung by Ritsu—isn’t sung by him at all. The voice is much lower, huskier, and she blinks, lifting her head to peer over across the audience to the stage. It’s easier said than done, when every girl there is already _shrieking_ , screams of _Izumi-saaaaan!!_ filling the area, every single penlight switching to Knights’ blue. “Did…did Izumi-san change this one?”

 

Leo’s heart stops.

 

He turns, chest tight, eyes suddenly misting over as he catches sight of Izumi, launching into the solo that had always been meant for him. “Give me your penlight,” he says suddenly, urgently, stripping off his sweater and pressing it into Ruka’s hands.

 

“E-eh?” Ruka hurries to pass over her penlight, her expression shifting to something worried. “ _Onii-chan,_ you’re gonna get mobbed—shouldn’t you go around back? Ah…” She might be a little distractedly, admittedly, and huddles behind her brother’s sweater as she stares at the stage, cheeks flushing. “Izumi-san is so…”

 

“Isn’t he?” Leo’s blood feels like it’s on fire. He moves to the stage in long strides of his short legs, eyes locked on where Izumi dances--swivels his hips just like that first day, just like they’re still in his room and he’s crowing about that sex appeal that Izumi has now weaponized--and leaps onto it just as he finishes the second verse. He hears the swell of the crowd around him and ignores it, entirely fixated, landing on the stage with both feet.

 

Izumi had been _very_ certain he was going about this alone.

 

“Who’s your king piece tonight, Se~na-kun?” Tenshouin Eichi had sweetly asked minutes before the Live was about to start, Leo nowhere to be found. Izumi had heard his blood pounding in his ears, had seen red for an illogical moment, because how dare Eichi ask such a stupid question when it’s so _obvious?_

 

But Leo hadn’t been there, and with no guarantee that he would be (who knows why, what had happened, what had gone wrong, he didn’t have time to consider it), Izumi had no choice but to say, “I am.”

 

Eichi had laughed, and Izumi had walked out onto the stage knowing he wasn’t calm. His gloved hands shake still, because if there’s one thing he’s still not convinced about, it’s the ability to be perfect when he’s singing a song written for him (on him).

 

But Leo’s timing is as perfect as always, even if that fluttering leap of his onto the stage makes Izumi falter.

 

For a second, anyway. Maybe no one will notice the stupid, hot tears that well up in his eyes.

 

_“Here I swear an eternal, pure Silent Oath, forever unsaid, these words kept locked away in my chest.”_

 

The music goes straight to Leo’s heart in a way his own songs usually don’t. In Izumi’s husky low tenor, the words take on the meaning they were always meant to have, and Leo walks close, leaning up to share his ear mic for the next harmony. It’s one he’s never tried before, but if he stays a side harmony, it shouldn’t interfere with Izumi’s routine too much. “Dear Moonlight...” he sings, eyes locked on the silver of Izumi’s hair as the girls in the front scream.

 

In the back of his mind, Izumi can’t help the staggered little thoughts of _fine isn’t even going to get a chance to sing at this rate_ and _we’ve won the whole thing already, haven’t we?_ —and that makes it so much, _much_ easier to reach up and grasp at Leo’s hand, his fingers still and no longer trembling when he leans forward to loan more of his mic.

 

“Please don’t illuminate me, because I’ll disappear.”

 

The idea of acting on instinct and not hours and hours of practice has always been a terrifying concept to Izumi, but it’s Leo’s nature, first and foremost, isn’t it? Maybe this once, it’s not so bad to follow the natural flow of things, which just so happens to lend Leo’s voice to support his own in the trade-off of verses that usually spans their entire unit. _Not tonight._

 

“When, someday, happiness visits you...”

 

Izumi’s hand feels right in his own. For the first time, Izumi’s choreography comes to Leo naturally, and he moves in time with the music he’d written, the lyrics feeling less clunky, the notes fitting together perfectly. He catches sight of a few girls in the audience sobbing, and thinks he knows how they feel.

 

“These words, kept locked away in my chest—“

 

A hot, wet tear streaks down his face, and Izumi ignores it. The inside of the shirt he’d worn home the day Leo had written this song out in a frenzy, all over his body, is still streaked green with marker that won’t wash out. It would be good if the notes were still like that on his skin, seared into it with every single beat.

 

“Together, with this blade sworn to you—the key that has kept me locked away is my proud, aching vow to you.”

 

His chest aches. His legs ache. The final bars to the familiar song make his ears ache, and it’s not a misstep that makes Izumi slide down to the stage, kneeling in front of Leo, head bowed. “Only this proud, aching oath,” he manages, barely keeping his voice steady when he looks up, “Forever.”

 

The cheer that rises from the audience is no match for the dull thudding in Leo’s heart, so loud it drowns everything else out. The look of Izumi on his knees, those achingly familiar words echoing throughout the stands, the side glimpse of all his Knights in the wings...

 

This is what he’d come back for, isn’t it?

 

They’ve won, he knows. It’s only a B1, and though fine fights their hardest, the crowd is on their side from the beginning. The momentum is impossible to stop, and the others take it over superbly when Leo and Izumi finally make it offstage, hand in hand, for Leo to use every bit of his strength to shove Izumi up against a wall, kissing him fiercely.

 

For all the shakiness that had disappeared the second Leo had appeared on stage, it’s back in full force once they’re off of it. Izumi feels his legs wobble, and he grabs for Leo’s shoulders to steady himself, suddenly dizzy from what has to be a mix of performing, bright lights, and _Leo._

 

“Ou-sama,” he rasps against Leo’s mouth, his head thunking back against the wall. _You were late, idiot_ —he’d scold Leo for that, but now he’s not sure if it was intentional or not.

 

“Sena...” Leo’s chin trembles, and he pitches forward, head buried in Izumi’s chest. He doesn’t have the words. He might have a melody, if he tries, but the words just won’t come, not when he’s shaken down to his core, not when Izumi had looked like _that_ singing his song, his precious gift.

 

“O-oi, don’t start crying, don’t you dare.” _If you do, I will,_ Izumi frantically thinks, already feeling the stinging prick of tears in his eyes again. “First you were late, now you’re being like this,” he mutters, but he resists shaking Leo by the shoulders like he normally would, and just wraps his arms around him instead, squeezing tightly. “I couldn’t’ve been that awful, geez…”

 

Leo wants to at least _try_ to say something, but the crowd is rioting, demanding an encore, demanding a victory song. Leo swallows, and slowly pulls back, looking up at Izumi behind unshed tears and starkly green eyes. “We have to give them what they want,” he whispers. “But the rest of me...Sena, it’s yours.”

 

Izumi exhales a long, hot breath. “After,” he says, his lips still tingling where Leo’s had been crushed against them. Right. It’s time to get back to work, and not sidle onto stage overstimulated and feeling like every nerve is buzzing. “Hey, wake up and get flirty and cute, that’s your job,” he mutters, squeezing Leo’s face in both gloved hands. “And share my mic again during talk time, they really ate that up.” It’s not like he liked it either or anything.

 

“I’ll have to share a few mics,” Leo says, almost apologetic. “Otherwise, the LeoKasa doujinka will get angry.”

 

But he turns his face to kiss Izumi’s palm, slowly, before grabbing it and running back onstage with a loud, “Uchuu!” to catapult his Knights into the history books.

 

“ _Ou-sama_ —“ Izumi’s exasperation is met by the shrieks of the audience, all still frantically waving their penlights in their color, _only_ their color.

 

The encore makes way to one of the more crushing defeats that Izumi has seen, to which Eichi yields…surprisingly gracefully. Izumi doesn’t get that guy; to be so oddly intense about victory and then be so cheerful when he loses seems anathema to his entire person, but he’ll take it. It doesn’t stop him from being wary, watching him out of the corner of his eye as he blinks sweat from his lashes and panders to the crowds of _very_ overstimulated girls.

 

So help him, it _does_ make him giddy still to know that _he_ had such a part in that.

 

“Leader! Please d-don’t be so close to me, you have your own microphone, don’t you?!”

 

Izumi rolls his eyes, slinging an arm around Arashi’s shoulders to sidle closer when they’re about to head off-stage. The hiccuping squeals are rampant—there’s always one little gaggle of girls that buys out the front right row, and every single time he and Arashi touch, they lose their minds. What do their fans say tonight? _“Wink…please?”_ Good grief. “Yo, Naru-kun. You didn’t suck tonight, so chocolate cake later it is.”

 

Arashi, as always, drinks up the attention like he’s a desert and they’re the first rain in years. “Ahhh, Izumi-chan, so sweet to me!” he croons into the microphone, with an exaggerated wink for the audience as he comes over, laying a hand on Izumi’s chest to make their fans lose their minds. “Oh, my, but you can’t keep me all for yourself, can you? When there are so many beautiful girls that need brave Knights in the world?”

 

“Thank you for coming, everyone!” It’s nighttime, and Sakuma Ritsu’s eyes gleam brilliantly red, a fine sheen of sweat on his brow as he throws his arms wide, giving the audience a sweet smile. “I love you!”

 

“Oi, Suou!” Leo launches himself at their youngest member from behind, hugging him hard and talking into his ear mic. “You’re making all your senpai proud! Wahahaha!”

 

“L-Leader…” Tsukasa’s lower lip wobbles, and much to his own horror, he bursts into tears, twisting around in Leo’s arms to hug him tightly and hide his face. “Thank you!”

 

“Ahhh~h, you made Kasa-kun cry,” Izumi sighs, swatting away Arashi’s hand half-heartedly. “Look at this mess. Kuma-kun, come here, I’ll treat you, too. And maybe—“ Izumi leans over the edge of the stage, bringing a girl in the front row to start breathing fast enough that he wonders if he’s killed her. “Mmn, nah, that fan says it’s for Ou-sama. I guess I’ll pass on stealing this princess away, then.”

 

“Izumi-saaan! Step on me!!”

 

“Naru-chan, Naru-chan, wink again, you’re so beautiful!”

 

“Riiiitsuuu, so cute!”

 

“Suou-kuuun, don’t cry!”

 

“Ou-sama, Ou-sama, Ou-sama!”

 

“Nonsense, Sena! Every girl here is our precious princess to protect. Isn’t that right, my ladies?”

 

The answering cheer is deafening, and Leo drinks it in, skin seeming to sparkle as he bathes in the attention, the positivity, the calls for more, _more_ , after they’ve seen him laid bare and just clamor for more. Some of the paralyzing self-doubt that always cripples him, letting him know that he’s _not enough, never good enough, just a fake genius pretending to be something incredible_ , seems to fade a little bit, replaced with something warm and calm and grounded. “Thank you, Yumenosaki!” he crows, grabbing Tsukasa’s hand with his right, Izumi’s with his left, and hoisting them into the air. “Your brave Knights love you!”

 

Leo’s hand is blazingly warm within his own, and it burns still even as they finally head backstage, sweaty and overstimulated. Tsukasa is still sniffling, clinging to Leo’s hand, scrubbing at his eyes. “T-that was _marvelous_ —Leader, Sena-sempai, did you p-plan all of that? You’re amazing!”

 

“Ou-sama’s a genius, what’d you expect?” Izumi sighs, sounding fond in spite of his exasperation. He spares a glance over his shoulder at fine giving their own thanks on stage, and _very_ content not to stick around for that, he squeezes Leo’s hand, only releasing it in order to finally unbutton his collar for some relief. “Nice job, everyone~ ahh, that’s enough for the rest of the year, I think…”

 

Arashi blinks around the sudden sting in his eyes, fluttering his hands fast to keep from smudging his stage makeup. “Ah--no fair, don’t say things like that, this isn’t...this isn’t our last performance together...is it?”

 

“No way,” Ritsu says flatly, wrapping his arms around Arashi and Izumi both, yanking them close. “We haven’t had our graduation concert, right?”

 

“That’s right,” Leo says, but there’s a note of hesitation in his voice. “It’s just...Ahaha, graduation is usually done without us old guys hanging around, right, Sena?” His own eyes aren’t exactly dry, but at least his voice doesn’t waver.

 

“Don’t hug me, you’re sweaty,” Izumi half-heartedly protests, swatting at Ritsu even as he doesn’t try to get away in the slightest. He opens his mouth to reply, but the sudden, startling sting of hot tears that come to his eyes when he thinks about not performing at graduation takes him by surprise. They’ve been threatening all night, and he’s managed to blink them back, but now they stream down his face unchecked, and there’s _nothing_ to be done. Mortified, Izumi shoves his arm up against his face. “Don’t look at me right now!”

 

Tsukasa stares over at him, slack-jawed in disbelief. “S…sena-sempai, are you—“

 

“I said d-don’t look at me! Ugh, you’re all the worst, stop h-hugging me!”

 

It’s more of a pile than anything, all squeezing Izumi to death in their arms, mostly to hide the fact that there’s no longer a dry eye in the group. Leo feels his sobs catch in his chest, ricocheting around the group until they’re all crying, holding onto each other less for love and more for support. “What a mess,” Arashi sniffs, face bowed so no one can see.

 

“This is the worst,” Izumi mumbles, unable to be the first to pull away, especially when he’s mostly sandwiched between Ritsu and Leo at this point. He squeezes Ritsu as much as he can, what with how Tsukasa is clinging to one of his arms. “Enough already, enough…”

 

“Let’s go out in celebration,” Tsukasa wetly insists, tugging on Izumi’s sleeve. “M-maybe to shabu shabu?”

 

Izumi scoffs. “What do rich boys know about stuff like that?”

 

“Sometimes, at formal dinners, we—“

 

“You’re so annoying.” Knowing he’s the one that would normally, firmly refuse, Izumi can only heave a sigh. “Fine, whatever, if everyone else wants to go out…”

 

Everyone else does.

 

They don’t cry at dinner--they argue about whether to dunk cooked meat in raw egg or peanut sauce, they quibble over who’s paying for the drinks bar. Arashi tries to feed Izumi with his chopsticks, Ritsu steals the meat Tsukasa dunks into the broth, and Leo tries not to cry, looking at his boys, his brave, shining Knights, who have believed in him this far and never let him down. He eats, when he remembers to make his mouth work, and lays his head on Izumi’s shoulder when everyone starts getting dessert. “I’m so tired,” he whispers, sliding his hand under the table’s heat to brush against the back of Izumi’s.

 

 _Thank god._ Izumi has already long reached his limit, and having an excuse to escape sounds wonderful. Being able to go out with his unit—his _friends_ is a warm, satisfying thing, but… “Good, because if I have to look at Kasa-kun eating ice cream for an hour, I’m gonna puke,” he only half-jokes, lacing their fingers together to slowly squeeze Leo’s hand. “You want to stay over at my house tonight?”

 

Leo nods, just barely resisting the urge to make Izumi’s shoulder into a pillow. He stretches, letting out a little squeak when his muscles strain, and slides out of the booth, grabbing his coat. “Sena’s taking me home,” he announces without hesitation, wriggling into the warm fabric, wishing he also had his hoodie. “Play nice, boys!”

 

Izumi fishes out his wallet, laying down enough bills to more than pay for his and Leo’s share (and maybe their stupid dessert bar addition, too). “Money’s on the table, Naru-kun,” he calls, waving before he grabs his coat and scarf, slinging the latter around Leo’s neck as he guides him towards the elevator. “If you fall asleep on the train, you better not drool on me.”

 

“I’m insulted you’d think I’d promise something like that.” Leo dons a mask out of his pocket, then a floppy hat, obscuring his telltale hair before he reaches for Izumi’s hand. “Hey, Sena...what are you doing after graduation?”

 

Izumi hesitates, fishing in his own pocket to pull out a mask and hook it into place before he grabs Leo’s hand. “I dunno.” The elevator dings, and he pulls Leo inside. “I thought about going back into modeling full time. I’ve gotten offers from much bigger agencies…what about you?”

 

“Me? I want to buy Sena’s photobook!”

 

“Dumbass. You don’t have to buy it, I’ll just give it to you. I mean, what are you doing after graduation?”

 

“Oh.” Leo twines his fingers through Izumi’s, and puts on a smile, even under his mask. Izumi can tell if he’s not smiling. Then again, Izumi can usually tell whether they’re real or not, but that’s a chance he needs to take. “I’m going to college. Already sent my acceptance.”

 

Something twists uncomfortably in his chest at that, and Izumi’s fingers tighten around Leo’s. “It better be more music school.”

 

“Eh? You think I need school for that? Haha! I already know music!” That should cover up the vague sick feeling in his chest, Leo hopes.

 

“Quit it.” The elevator lurches to a stop, and Izumi pulls Leo out, brushing past a group of chattering girls trying to get on at the same time. “What’re you going for?”

 

Leo shrugs, trying to hold on to the warmth and good mood of earlier and not think about college dorms, and the lecture he’d already had about how his grades were only good enough to get in by the skin of his teeth. “A degree.”

 

Izumi’s lips purse, and he frees his hand to swat the back of Leo’s head. “I’m gonna beat you up,” he bluntly says. “If you want to go to college to make your parents happy, fine, I’m not gonna stop you. But I—“ It’s a really good thing the streets are crowded and no one’s paying attention to them, or he might die. “If you wanted to say ‘fuck it’ and leave, it’s not like you couldn’t move in tonight, Leo.”

 

Leo gives Izumi a wan little smile, then shrugs. “It’s not really about making them happy. I mean, it does...but...” _What else am I supposed to do?_ he wants to ask, and hopefully his shrug says as much. “Hey...am I not your king anymore, now that we’re graduating?”

 

“Dumbass. I just wanted to try saying your name.” Izumi sighs, grabbing Leo by the arm again and hauling him along. _Maybe I thought it would snap you out of this, idiot._ “Aren’t kings supposed to be more selfish than this? Not even a single proposal about making another group once you graduate? I expected at least two seconds of ’Seenaaa, don’t be a model, come perform with me!’”

 

Leo’s mouth opens and closes. This feels more like an ending than shabu shabu had, or the Live before that, when he doesn’t have any good answers to give. “Sena...” _You aren’t his king anymore. You’re just his classmate, who’s making a boring, practical career choice._

 

The doors on his Inspiration start to slide shut. That had happened before, when they’d been slammed by Tenshouin. This is a gentle scrape of wood against stone, but the lights are going out all the same. Maybe this time it’ll happen all day, and he’ll just be the Leo that his family knows, rather than the eccentric genius King his Knights love.

 

 _Would that be so bad?_ he thinks, letting Izumi pull him along, lost in a chaotic swirl of thoughts. _To pretend all the time, to be what they need me to be...is it so bad to be what they think I am?_

 

There won’t be any more songs. He knows. He’s lived it before. But how can he tell anyone--tell _Sena_ \--that it was boring and lame but not insufferable, to let the days blend into monotony, to clean his room and take driving lessons and go grocery shopping with his mother, to watch television and let the music in his head fade away except when it wakes him in the dead of night? Even then, they weren’t just melodies, but people. When he doesn’t have his Knights ready to perform all the time, bursting out of his dreams to torment him, the music might fade away completely this time. But his father had already sat down with him and a spreadsheet and his budget, letting him know what he’ll be expected to pay back after he earns a good job after college--a necessary sacrifice right now for the family, he’s been told, because idol careers are fleeting, idol careers are only for the young, ‘musician’ isn’t a real job, and he’s indulged himself for long enough. Thoughts swirl, and his foot catches on a stone curb, sending him sprawling into the street, hands skinned on the asphalt as the wind is knocked out of him.

 

“Ou-sama—geez, be careful, are you all right?”

 

Izumi immediately turns back to his side, kneeling next to Leo and wincing as he grabs for Leo’s arm to help him up. “If you bleed on these jeans, I’ll kill you,” he harmlessly chides, examining Leo’s hands with a sigh. His gaze flicks up after a moment, trying to catch Leo’s gaze when he’s so eerily silent.

 

Yeah, no. That’s the worst. Izumi remembers that hollow-eyed stare, peering around that familiar door frame, staring him down. _“At least eat something.”_

 

“Don’t be a stupid king tonight.”

 

Izumi reaches up, hooking a finger into Leo’s mask and pulling it down to get a better look at his face. “You don’t _have_ to ask, you know,” he quietly says, dragging a thumb over Leo’s cheek, like they aren’t just in the middle of the street where everyone can see. “Just write me something, and I’ll sing it with you.”

 

“It’s...better,” Leo says quietly, forcing the words out when they want to stay behind his teeth. “If you want me to. I’m...afraid.” He swallows, blinking rapidly as his palms start to sting at last, and his hands tremble.

 

“Yeah. Yeah, I know. I always want you to write me stuff, though, so you don’t have a choice but to get over it and do it.”

 

Izumi slowly climbs to his feet, pulling Leo up gently by the wrists, and examines his hands once more with a sigh. “Fuck it,” he mutters, and hails a cab, uninterested in trying to drag Leo through crowded stations and sit on a train with him for half an hour when he’s like this. “In you go, Ou-sama. 4-Chome-13-21, Hiroo, thanks.”

 

Izumi slings an arm tight around Leo, dragging him close and settling in for the ride. “Ou-sama should be my producer,” he quietly says against Leo’s hair. “Even if you have to go to college for awhile, it’s not like you can’t have a sweet gig on the side, hmm?”

 

Leo gasps for air a little, until he latches on to Izumi for real, feeling that familiar low body temperature and firm dancer’s body that he knows so well. He clutches, getting his hands into Izumi’s shirt and leaving them grasping there, until the tremors stop. “Useless,” he mutters at himself, frustrated and annoyed. “Sena...you don’t need to...your light can shine without mine.” His heart hurts. It’s a bad moment, just a bad moment, he knows it, knows it’ll pass, but he’s been avoiding this conversation for months, and the stress and emotions are finally catching up.

 

“Don’t say things like that.” God, he can’t wait to be home. Izumi feels woefully incapable of handling this—when has he ever been good at comforting anyone?—but if he doesn’t, who will? Who _could?_ It paints the picture of Leo’s late arrival to evening’s Live much more clearly, because Izumi isn’t stupid, and maybe he knows Leo too well. “If it weren’t for you, I’d…” He trails off, fumbling with words and how to downplay them, but downplaying isn’t what Leo needs right now, not at all. “I’d be in my grave already.” He’d _meant_ to say that he’d be a shitty singer still, that he wouldn’t be able to work with anyone, that he’d still be chasing after Makoto like a fool, but, well… “You’re something else, you know? No one else ever just comes out and says the things you do—‘you’re beautiful’, ‘I like you’, ‘I love you’…let someone else be generous with their words for a change, okay, Ou-sama?”

 

 _It’s not generosity,_ Leo aches to say, but the rhythm of the taxi and Izumi’s breath are lulling him, soothing his emotions when they’d been in a near riot before. His hiccuping turns to gasping, which turns to regular deep breaths, head laying on Izumi’s slender chest.

 

 _No_.

 

He’s not going back to the way it was before. He can’t. It would be too easy to be a shell again, the ghost of someone he used to feel pride in, and what kind of example is that for all of them? How could he look Izumi, who has conquered so much, in the face after that? “It’s not generosity,” he whispers, not meeting Izumi’s eyes, but still cradled against his chest. “It’s honesty. I...Sena...”

 

He firms his jaw. Is he a king, or isn’t he? “I won’t go back,” he says aloud, because it’s the only way to make it true. “I’ll always write you songs. And maybe--maybe we can perform sometimes, even just at karaoke, until Sena is such a big star he forgets all about me.”

 

“Not gonna happen.” Izumi gives Leo a hard squeeze, squishing him up against his chest further, his fingers slowly stroking along his arm when he feels him starting to breathe easier. “You think I don’t know you’re the one spamming my fanclub’s Line chat every week? I can’t forget someone like that, you’re too annoying.”

 

 _This isn’t fair._ It rubs him the wrong way a million times over, irritating him until the hair on the back of his neck stands on end. “Hey, Ou-sama—“

 

The taxi rolls to a stop, and Izumi exhales a long, frustrated breath, even as he works to untangle the two of them and pay the driver. He pulls Leo from the car, shutting the door, and self-consciously straightens the scarf he’d wrapped around Leo’s neck.

 

**To: Izumi**

**Subject: DON’T WORRY**

**Papa and I can see you from the window sweetie!! :) don’t worry we are going into our room and shutting the door tight. >.< Your concert was very impressive! Cake on the counter w/condoms!**

 

Leo looks up into Izumi’s blue eyes, comforted by their strangeness. The touch is just as comforting, and he leans into it, then tries to stand, making himself presentable for the house. Whatever Izumi was going to say was probably important, but it can wait, he supposes. “I have cab fare,” he says numbly, vaguely remembering that Izumi had paid for dinner as well, something that makes him feel hollow and warm at the same time.

 

“Yeah, because a knight totally wants his king to pay for that shit. Let me treat you.” Izumi thumbs open his wallet and leans through the window to pay the driver, letting him drive off before he fishes out his beeping phone with a sigh. “Oh, for fuck’s sake.”

 

**To: Mama**

**Subject: thanks???**

**but now i’m really nervous can you please go and not look for like five minutes at least**

 

“My mom,” Izumi mutters in explanation, shoving his phone away again and exhaling a hot breath, watching it turn to foggy, white steam in the night air. “Ou-sama…I know I said I wasn’t gonna stop you if you have to go to college for something like business or math or whatever your dad thinks is smart, but…ugh, this is so annoying. I _hate_ the idea of you doing it, stop trying to make everyone else happy when you’re miserable!”

 

Leo shrugs wordlessly. It’s hard to explain things like his father’s spreadsheets, how he’d never even stood up to them with a plan of his own, how he’d just let them make decisions for him, when Izumi seems to have it all figured out. His house is nice, really nice; Leo doubts he’s ever overheard his parents arguing about whether he can get a new school uniform this year, or not eating toast for a few months because the toaster had broken and there was never quite space in the budget to get a new one. His family isn’t impoverished, or anything. There’s always been food on the table, and his parents keep up appearances well. But the spreadsheets loom in Leo’s mind, and the moment his father had said, _If you have a better idea for your future, I’m willing to listen._

 

“I can’t be a king forever,” he says softly, shrinking into his coat like a turtle into its shell. “You know it too, don’t you? It’s a dream we’re all having together.” He sees his breath puff out white in the air, hanging between them.

 

“No.” It comes out petulant, _bratty_ , and Izumi doesn’t care. “That’s bullshit, you’re not allowed to say that.”

 

He grabs for Leo’s hands, forgetting how they’ve been scraped up. “You’re a stupid king, but you’re a genius. You’re so _fucking_ annoying, but you’re _my_ king, and if—if tonight’s any indication, it’s not just a dream, you know?” Izumi hears his voice break, and he shakes Leo, frustrated. “I don’t care what your parents tell you. You want to be a star, don’t you? So let’s _do it_ , I’ll—whatever you want from me, whatever I can do, I’m here. Ou-sama, I’m here.”

 

Leo hardly even notices the way his hand sting, the way the scrapes open again, so transfixed is he by Izumi’s sudden passion. He reaches up, cupping one cheek. “Where was this Sena when I wasn’t sure what to do?” he asks gently. Most of the doors are shutting, but one of them...

 

One has a shining figure in it, stubbornly keeping his foot wedged between door and frame. Maybe enough light can come in that way, even if the rest of his life is dark. “I just want to write music. I don’t care about being a star, I never did. I just...if you’ll sing my songs, I’ll never stop writing.”

 

“F-fine, if that’s what you want, fine!” Izumi huffs out another hot breath, and everything he’s been biting back for so long starts helplessly pouring out. “Ou-sama, you’re so stupid! If you had said anything about this earlier, I would’ve told you what I’m telling you now, but you never, _ever_ talk about yourself, and it’s so frustrating that I want to kill you sometimes! What good is it going to do anyone if you’re in some miserable desk job, huh? Go to college, see if I care, but I’m _not_ letting you waste away like some _idiot!_ ”

 

Blurting that much out leaves him shaky, his head spinning. Izumi gives up after a short battle in fighting that sudden vertigo, and he drops to one knee, still grabbing at Leo’s hand. “When you’re done making your parents satisfied, I’ll still be here,” he insists, his face flushed and eyes stinging. “And I’m not just talking about singing your songs, I—you—“

 

 _“Hey, Ou-sama—“_ He’d been so close to just saying it before getting out of that cab, to being able to be casual and strong and hopefully take care of all of Leo’s insecurities in one fell swoop, but now his throat locks up, and his fingers tremble far from nerves than the cold. “All I-I need is to simply be by your side, never parting.” It’s so much more terrifying to say those words when they aren’t on stage, when it isn’t also a performance, and Izumi honestly feels like he’s about to die.

 

Leo’s mouth opens, then closes helplessly. He looks down, and feels a wet drop hit his hand. _Rain_ , he thinks, but the sky is clear, even with the water running down his cheeks.

 

 _Be something_ , he screams at himself, silent, as he stands like an idiot with the best thing in his life kneeling in front of him. _Be what he thinks you are, for once!_

 

He tries to say something kingly, something exceptional, something inspirational. Instead he feels his own knees hit the pavement, arms thrown around Izumi’s neck as tightly as he’s ever hugged anyone, trembling with the sobs wracking his body. “I,” he manages, squeezing so tightly he hears his own joints popping, “will _always_ hold your oath, and never break it.”

 

Izumi’s arms can’t move fast enough to get around Leo, to crush him firmly against him, to all but try to smother him and all the sobs that escape from his throat. He buries his face into Leo’s hair, trying to silence his own wet sniffling as he squeezes Leo to the point he’s making his own arms ache. It feels good. “Hey,” Izumi whispers against Leo’s ear, finally saying what had wanted to so badly in that cab, “Marry me, we’re two stops from Shibuya on the Hibiya line.”

 

Leo looks up, eyes red, swallowing around the sobs that wrack his body. He sniffs, then lets his forehead rest against Izumi’s. “You’re so stupid, Sena,” he whispers. “We shouldn’t have gotten out of the cab.”

 

Izumi’s next sob breaks into a laugh, and he tilts his head to kiss Leo, even if they’re both salty and chapped from the cold. “Stop making me be so honest, it’s really annoying,” he rasps, squeezing Leo once more before he slowly hauls them both to their feet. “‘Sena Leo’, that’s a cute name. Way cuter than ‘Tsukinaga Izumi’, sorry.”

 

“Mm,” Leo says with a nod, not disagreeing. “But everything Izumi is cute, though.” He lays his head on Izumi’s shoulder, arms slung low around his waist. “Sorry. I won’t disappear. I promise.”

 

**To: Izumi**

**Subject: ;w;**

**if you need your birth certificate it’s in the locked desk drawer but if you don’t invite me it’s fine i’ll just cry......im not listening i swear just crying....**

 

“I’m not going to let you. Come on, it’s freezing out here.” Izumi fishes for his phone in his pocket and scowls, shoving it back in and then pulling Leo to the front door. “Mama!” he snaps, kicking off his shoes. “Stop being so _nosy_. We’re not doing it tonight, anyway, we’re both really tired!”

 

The door opens immediately, revealing Sena Maya blowing her nose, dabbing at her eyes with a tissue. “Hello, Leo-kun, dear,” she says wetly. “Don’t mind me, come in, if you need your birth certificate or something to eat, it’s all on the table.”

 

She grabs Izumi by the head, pressing a firm kiss to his forehead when he gets close. “You’re a good boy,” she says firmly, then wipes her eyes. “Don’t mind me, I’ll leave you boys alone, you had a long night.”

 

Leo somehow musters a smile. “Thank you for your hospitality, Sena-san.” It’s about all he can manage, and he leans sideways against Izumi for support.

 

“We’re going to _bed_ ,” Izumi mutters, his face hot courtesy of his mother’s praise, which also only results in the stupid prick of tears back to his eyes.

 

“We could all go to Hawaii again,” his father calls hopefully from the living room. “It’s much easier than trying to deal with Japanese officials, trust me.“

 

Izumi huffs and grabs Leo’s arm—not his hands, he remembers this time—and pulls him up the stairs, unable to spend another embarrassing second around his parents. “Good _night_ ,” he snaps, shutting the door firmly behind them.

 

Privacy in a warm room at _last._ He sighs, sits Leo down onto the end of his bed, and rummages into his nightstand, pulling out a packet of antibiotic wipes that he rips open. “Here. Bandaids won’t stay, but at least clean those scrapes off before they get gross. D’you want a bath, or do you just want sleep?”

 

Leo looks up, still feeling dazed, and holds out his hands numbly. “I just want to be where you are,” he says honestly, as the only thing he can vocalize right now.

 

“Just bed, then,” Izumi mutters, carefully (but thoroughly) wiping Leo’s hands down. Any other time and he’d soak in the shower for at least half an hour, but Leo is so out of it that cuddling seems like the much more advisable choice. He tosses the wipe into the trash, and starts unwinding his scarf from Leo’s neck. “I need to go scrub my makeup off, you gonna be okay for five minutes?”

 

Leo nods, sitting placidly on the bed. The numbness is much better than the emptiness of before, but it still leaves him a bit cold when Izumi is gone. The shower sounds like rain, and he closes his eyes, trying to remind himself that the loudest, the worst of it is over. Everything left is silence.

 

That’s scary.

 

He stands, bolting to the bathroom and jumping into the shower behind Izumi with his clothes still on, unable to hear the silence for another second, burying his face in Izumi’s back. “That’s better,” he sighs. “The music is in you tonight.”

 

Izumi squawks, pitching forward and nearly slamming his face into the wall of the shower as he slips, only just catching himself. “Ou-sama,” he grinds out, twisting around and grabbing Leo by the shoulders, shampoo bubbles still dripping from the ends of his hair. “If you’re the reason my face gets fucked up, we’re gonna have words. Take your clothes off, stupid. If you’re here, I’ll wash your hair, at least.”

 

Leo hums the tune in his head gratefully, stripping off his clothes now that things are a little less unbearable. He bobs his head a bit with the music, letting his wet costume slop to the floor outside the tub, hugging Izumi around the waist again now that they’re both naked. It feels odd, until Izumi’s shampoo starts to drip over both of them. Then it feels slippery and good, and he grabs Izumi’s ass. “This isn’t about music. I just like this.”

 

“Yeah, yeah, grab it all you want, then,” Izumi says, unfazed, already in the process of pulling Leo’s ponytail free and running his fingers through his hair to thoroughly lather it up. This is much more like the Leo he knows, and he starts to relax. _Maybe I’m doing_ something _right._ “I know it’s nice. Want me to flex or something?”

 

“Yep. Wiggle your cute ass.”

 

Izumi rolls his eyes, and deliberately shifts to do just that, taking care to let Leo feel the way his muscles stretch and clench underneath his fingers. “Happy, Ou-sama?” he drawls, kneading his fingers into Leo’s scalp and easing his head back to wash out the shampoo.

 

Leo lets out an odd little purring sound, eyes sliding shut both at the feeling of Izumi’s hands in his hair and Izumi’s butt in his hands. “Sena...you’re spoiling me. Now I’m really a selfish king, hmm?”

 

“That’s the way it should be, obviously.” Izumi runs his thumbs down the back of Leo’s neck, kneading out all of the lingering tension he can feel there once he’s convinced Leo’s hair is washed clean. “Your eyeliner’s running. Ah, I’m amazed it lasted through all of our bawling.”

 

“Mm, I get the waterproof kind. You never know when you’ll get proposed to and wind up crying outside your fiance’s house.”

 

“Ahh, geez, that sounds so adult!” Izumi complains, glad that he can blame the heat of the shower on how his face starts to turn red. He grabs a washcloth and then Leo’s face in one hand, scowling as he wipes it clean. “Don’t talk about it so casually, it’s embarrassing.”

 

“Eh?” Leo cocks his head, running the tip of his tongue over his bottom lip, looking up at Izumi through wipes of the washcloth. “Are you taking it back? Do you not wanna marry me after all? I’ll die alone...”

 

“That’s not what I said at all, idiot.” Izumi flops the washcloth down onto Leo’s face when he’s done, obscuring his face from view. “It’s…it’s weird, hearing words like ‘fiance’ and stuff like that. That’s all.”

 

“Wouuuld it be weeeeeird....if I saaaang iiiiiit....? Fiiiiiaaaaanceeeeee....”

 

“That’s worse. So much worse. Quit it.”

 

Leo pouts. “Sena, I thought you were spoiling me. I’m the one thing you’re not allowed to say is a pain.”

 

“I never said you were a pain, I—“ Izumi scowls, reaching around him to shut the water off. “Whatever, say it all you want. It’s not like it isn’t true or anything.”

 

Leo takes a deep breath, then tilts back his head as if he’s about to yell...then winks. “I won’t embarrass you in front of my new parents yet.”

 

Izumi sighs at that, only offering him a sort of long-suffering, but affectionate stare before he steps out of the shower, dragging Leo with him and immediately bundling him up in a fluffy towel. “They like you a lot, you know,” he quietly says after a moment, drying himself off as well and checking his reflection in the mirror, making sure every trace of makeup is gone before he reaches for a tub of lotion. “Mama won’t stop asking questions about you. My dad’s a little more reserved about this kind of thing, but he likes you, too. I’m pretty sure he wants to adopt you.”

 

Leo’s eyes sting, and he rubs them on his wrist, laughing at himself a little. “Ah, at least my eyeliner’s all gone, hm? Sena’s parents....really are too good. No wonder they gave me such a good fi~an~ce.”

 

Izumi opens his mouth to protest—and probably call him an idiot, because what else do you even say to something like that?—but he gives up with a sigh, and goes back to his skincare routine. It’s not _so_ bad to humor Leo, after all. “Yeah, well. Just know they’re serious about the Hawaii thing. And everything else, because they’re that way.” The second tub of lotion he cracks open doesn’t go on his face, but instead over his stomach and thighs, kneaded into the marks on his skin, some more faded than others. “That’s enough being _up_ for tonight,” he murmurs, turning away from the mirror and grabbing for Leo again, dragging him to the bed and flopping down. “You’re like a furnace again, good.”

 

Leo immediately snuggles into Izumi’s arms when given the chance, pillowing his head on Izumi’s chest. “Hey...Sena.” He turns his head, hand tracing little patterns on his chest, skittering down to thumb over the lines darting across Izumi’s belly. “You’ll always be my canvas, even if these fade. I’m good at drawing.”

 

 _Talking_ about it makes him cringe instinctively, but it’s Leo. It’s Leo, and he has to remind himself of that. _It’s Leo, it’s Ou-sama, it’s fine._ “…Good.” Izumi turns his head, burying his face into Leo’s neck as he slings his arms around him. “I haven’t…done it in awhile.” It’s the first, stumbling thing he’s ever been able to actually _say_ about it, and it’s an odd, stressful rush. “And I don’t want my agent seeing it,” he admits quietly. “Not when I want to get more work. I—heh. Remember when you wrote _all_ over me that time? I took pictures of that when I got home, and my agent saw it on my phone and thought it was super editorial. Next time you’re inspired, do it again and I’ll get it professionally shot.”

 

“Sena’s body is always mine to use when I’m inspired,” Leo says, as if it’s something so obvious he shouldn’t have to say it aloud, but is willing to make the sacrifice.

 

He squirms, moving around to straddle Izumi’s hips, lowering his head to kiss Izumi’s neck, nuzzling at his chin. “Sena,” he breathes, eyes dilating, “I’m inspired now...but not with music. Just with you.”

 

Leo might not need to say it aloud, but _hearing it_ makes Izumi’s breath stutter. His head automatically tips back as he shifts, rolling flat onto his back, his mind narrowed very abruptly to every single thing Leo says, and every single place their skin touches, sticking together from the lingering steam of the shower that drifts out into his bedroom. “T-…that’s one hell of a compliment,” he manages with a ragged laugh, his hands sliding to Leo’s hips. “You just said you could use me however you want, so…what do you want?”

 

“I think...” Leo lowers his mouth, kissing over Izumi’s chest, down, until his lips brush over the thin line of a scar, then up again to drag over one nipple. “I think I’m done being a selfish king for the day. I think I need to take care of my vassal.”

 

He cocks his head slightly, hands coming to rest on Izumi’s chest, rocking his hips down. “I’ll use my mouth if you want,” he offers. “Or you can lay back and I’ll...well, either way. Your king is at your service, loyal vassal.”

 

 _Seriously? Really?_ Izumi’s eyes glaze. So help him, it’s like Leo is taking a page out of his typical Saturday night, curl up in bed fantasies, the kind of shit he doesn’t indulge in unless it’s complete with one of the idiot’s shirts he’s ‘borrowed’ in the past couple of weeks. Izumi grabs for him, tangling his fingers into the ends of Leo’s hair to drag him down and kiss him hard. “Fuck me,” he breathes, his teeth scoring Leo’s lower lip. “Ou-sama, please.” _You can do whatever you want to me._

 

If Izumi doesn’t know what he does, Leo isn’t going to tell him.

 

He returns the kiss just as hard, then scoots off of Izumi just long enough to urge his legs apart, kneeling between them. There’s nervousness, yes, but something about the lithe grace that Izumi moves with, something about the easy sinful drape of his posture, tells him that he doesn’t need to be afraid here. “Sena...you’ve done this before.” It isn’t a question; they’ve talked about it. “What’s your favorite way?”

 

“That’s kinda…”Izumi shifts, squeezing his thighs to either side of Leo’s hips. The handful of times he _has_ done it, of course it’s all been with Arashi—and they had both been very…selective, regarding the entire thing, between him not wanting Arashi to see him naked, and Arashi being _very_ insistent about how he was allowed to touch and where. So, inevitably, to prevent arguments: “I’ve only ever done it facedown,” he wryly admits, reaching up to run his fingers through Leo’s hair. “Which is good, but kind of a waste considering I can fold my legs up over my head. Have you…if there’s a way you’ve ever thought of doing it, I’m game.”

 

Leo leans down, brushing his lips over the shell of Izumi’s ear, laying his body on top of Izumi’s, feeling them pressed together chest to chest, belly to belly, thighs to thighs. “I want to do it while I’m holding you, if I can,” he murmurs, eyes glinting in the low light. Shadows play over his face, and it’s possible that he doesn’t look entirely human, all fey angles and unnatural colors. “Is it really okay that we’re doing it when your parents are home?”

 

“We’re _engaged_ , what’re they going to do about it?” Izumi shivers, splaying his hands over Leo’s back, dragging his fingers down the bumps of his spine. “My mom left condoms downstairs for us, for fuck’s sake. God, how sure are you about not getting into modeling? You’re perfect.”

 

“I hate schedules and diets. Seems like a pretty bad career choice, hmm?”

 

Leo rocks up, feeling himself harden halfway just from the easy warm friction of being with Izumi like this, of being pressed skin to skin, of being _close_ like this. Skinship like this is something he could get drunk on every day of his life, as long as it’s with someone like Izumi. No, not someone like him--with this man, just this one, who has seen the worst of him and never faltered, never doubted. Leo brushes the hair back from Izumi’s face, leaning down to kiss him. “Do you like fingers? Mine, inside you?”

 

“Yes.” The response comes without hesitation, and Izumi lurches off the bed to meet Leo’s mouth with his own, eager and hungry, but _trying_ to keep it soft still. He squirms, reaching into his nightstand to fumble for a bottle of lube. “I like it a lot,” he breathlessly admits, grabbing for Leo’s and and pressing a kiss to his palm. “I—mm. I think about it a lot.”

 

Leo grabs the lube, fiddles with the bottle, squirts a cold glob over Izumi’s stomach, then figures it out. “Aha, I see, it opens from this end.” He scoops up the glob from Izumi’s stomach, then slides his hand down, fingers sliding slippery trails down Izumi’s thighs before he finds the little hole between his legs. “You’re...so hot here,” he breathes, and presses two fingers in, searching for the right angle to let them--there, slide in perfectly.

 

Izumi clamps a hand over his mouth, enough to stifle that initial, breathy groan that escapes his throat when Leo’s fingers sink inside of him. It’s been _awhile_ since someone else has had their fingers in him, and he’d almost forgotten how much easier it is for someone else to reach everywhere that he _can’t._ “Fuck,” he mutters, dropping his hand from his mouth and letting it thump against the bed as he wriggles down, breath escaping through his nose when he presses into Leo’s hand. His toes curl, the muscles in his thighs jumping. “Ou-sama…if you…ah…” It’d be a lot easier to offer suggestions if he wasn’t already achingly hard, probably.

 

“If I? If I this?” Leo reaches in further, eyes locked on Izumi’s face, watching each reaction, each gorgeous wince and shiver. _I did that. I’m making him make those faces. He’s feeling good because of me, because of the way I’m touching him._ That thought is a heady one, and Leo groans low in his throat, watching for the best looks, then doing whatever he’d done again, noticing how Izumi’s face crumples into pleasure when he curls his fingers in. “If I that? Sena, you’re so beautiful. The moon is coming through the window, like it can’t get enough of touching you.” Leo curves his fingers, sliding them in deep. “I know how it feels to be the moon.”

 

“Ou…s…samaaa…” The noise that leaves his throat is thready and raw, and Izumi gulps, his throat bobbing hard as he reaches back to clutch at the pillow behind his head. His legs tremble with every curl of Leo’s fingers, his teeth worrying hard at his lower lip as he tries not to pant and whine when they curl in so deeply that it aches. His cock twitches against his stomach, flushed at the tip and dripping over his skin, and Izumi deliberately shifts, muscles clenching down as he does. It makes him jerk and shudder, and he tilts his head back to suck in a hard breath. “Thought about you doing this…for _so_ long,” Izumi groans, spurred to honesty when his body isn’t letting him lie, anyway. “Since first year, fuck you.”

 

“I’ll do anything for you, Sena,” Leo promises, dragging his fingers in and out, rocking with Izumi’s tensing and squirming, trying to get more of those beautiful, subtle reactions that make this the best thing he’s ever done. His own cock is achingly hard now, and he shifts forward eagerly, the idea that he’s actually going to be able to slide _inside_ that tight slick heat making him dizzy. “Condom?”

 

“N-no, forget it.” How he manages _any_ coordination is beyond him, let alone actually dragging his fingers through the lube spilled on his stomach before reaching down to grab hungrily for Leo’s cock. How hard it is in his grasp makes Izumi pant, and his thumb rubs over the tip, drawing it back to see the sticky strand of precome attached to it. “Fuck. Please—just, put me wherever it’s easiest for you, I don’t caaare.”

 

Leo lets out a frustrated hungry noise when Izumi touches him like that, as if Izumi’s hand is setting him alight. Moonlight cascades through the window, and that, he decides, is how Izumi is meant to be seen, in the stark pale light of night. The day can keep its angry glare; all that matters is the wan light illuminating Izumi’s flushed, eager face.

 

Leo moves suddenly, pulling his fingers out, grabbing Izumi’s legs behind the knees and bending them back, testing that vaunted flexibility--it isn’t just for show, as Izumi’s knees touch the bed in no time, up around his ears. Leo leans in, feeling the blunt head of his cock drag across the hole he’s been touching, and he bites his lip, leaning down until they’re close enough to kiss. When his voice comes out, it’s tender reverent. “Like the moon on the water,” he whispers, and pushes inside.

 

It was nice being able to think while it lasted.

 

Leo’s cock sinking into him makes his breath stop short. Izumi feels himself tremble down to his toes, all the way to his lips that he bites into, and he grips and kneads at the sheets under his fingers, unable to get any other leverage, bent and held as he is. Fuck, but he’s glad it’s as easy as he remembers, with that satisfying, achy stretch making his chest heave when he finally thinks about breathing again. He barely can, because it’s _Leo_ , Leo inside of him, Leo above him, Leo—“Ou-sama,” Izumi mindlessly groans, his head falling back, cheeks flushed dark and tongue flicking out to catch the drop of sweat that runs down from his hairline.

 

For longer than he’d like to admit, Leo can’t think at all. He whimpers, head thunking down against Izumi’s chest, gulping for air as he thrusts in once, twice, a third time before the haze clears from his mind, the lust receding just enough that he can think. When it does, he lets go of one of Izumi’s thighs, moving instead to caress his pale cheek. “Good? Not hurting? Sena... _Sena_...”

 

Izumi can feel the difference in the way Leo moves—the way he can’t _help himself_ for those first few thrusts. _Good, it feels good,_ I _can make him feel like that._ The thought makes Izumi shudder, and he lets his one leg slink forward and drape over Leo’s shoulder when he clenches down, mouth falling open at the heady ache of Leo’s cock shoved deep inside of him. “Nhh? Mmn…n-no, ’s good,” he mumbles, turning his head to butt against Leo’s hand, then get his lips around his thumb, dragging his tongue over the tip of it. “Ou-sama…”

 

A strangled groan rips its way out of Leo’s mouth when Izumi’s tongue flicks over his thumb. Without his permission, his mind flashes suddenly back to the archery shed, and the blissed out face Izumi had made while sucking him off. That thought combined with the slick squeeze around his cock are too much, and he loses control again, grinding in deep, hands grabbing and squeezing at every part of Izumi he can reach, needing him closer, needing him _more_ , needing to be in him so far that Izumi won’t be able to breathe.”Sena,” he groans, biting his lip with each hard thrust inside. “I, ah, want you to feel...” But he’s lost, frantically pumping in, unable to think of anything but how honestly _good_ it feels.

 

Dazedly, Izumi reaches back, grabbing at the headboard of his bed to brace himself—though it doesn’t do much when he’s folded up and Leo’s grabbing at him like that, pulling him down, fucking him hard. There’s nothing better than making Leo lose control again, and being able to do little but squirm and clench around his cock makes Izumi flush hot, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment. “O-…Ou-sama, you—“ His breath hiccups, caught up in his chest. “Y-you’re in so deep, I—“ He can _hear it_ as much as he can feel it, every hard slap of Leo’s hips going straight to his cock, every lewd sound when Leo grinds in hard making his breath catch.

 

His thighs tremble and twitch, one heel digging into Leo’s back when he gets a lucky thrust in that makes Izumi’s entire body seize up, and he yelps, abandoning the headboard to shove his hand over his mouth with a broken groan. Helplessly, Izumi’s fingers drag to one of his nipples, pinching, pulling, barely getting a chance to do it a second time before he’s already coming, spilling in long, hard pulses over his stomach, biting into his knuckles to keep his voice down when all he wants to do is scream.

 

It almost, Leo thinks dazedly, feels too good. His body is too hot, his skin too tight, Izumi’s ass too slick and hot and _squeezing_ around him, to the point that he doesn’t want to come, wants to stay like this forever, buried in deep, delicious friction until he dies.

 

His body doesn’t cooperate, though. As soon as he has the thought, his back arches, face screwed up in the utmost pleasure, spasms wracking his body as he trembles, feeling Izumi’s insides get slicker, hotter with each pulse. Finally he slumps down, body gone boneless and limp, breathing hard as he collapses on top of Izumi’s folded-up body. “Sena,” he whispers, unable to make any more words, unable even to hum a melody.

 

So _that’s_ what it feels like having someone actually come _in you—_ hot and slick and it’s _Ou-sama_ and…and he can’t think about it for too long, because he’s going to come again, embarrassingly. Izumi swallows hard, his head flopping back onto a pillow as he shivers and reaches a hand down to weakly pet Leo’s hair. “Ou-sama,” he exhales. “Don’t…don’t pull out yet.”

 

Leo nods, a bare movement that hardly makes him move at all, but the sentiment gets across. He sucks in a breath, then murmurs, “Sena. Just because I say I love you a lot doesn’t mean it’s less true or important...but I _really_ mean it right now.”

 

“D…don’t start with that or I’m gonna start crying again.” He already might be sniffling, because hey, what the fuck. Post-orgasm tears aren’t necessary right now! To distract himself, Izumi shifts, grimacing as he forces himself to unfold, hearing a joint or two pop as he stretches legs out to either side of Leo. “I g-get it, my ass makes everyone fall in love even more.”

 

Leo rubs his face over Izumi’s chest, blindly seeking more contact, more comfort, more closeness with Izumi when it’s the only thing keeping him grounded right now. “Then don’t lend it out to anyone else. That’s the rule of marriage, right? That I have exclusive rights? Though I already should, because I’m your king...”

 

“Of course you have exclusive rights, stupid,” Izumi mutters, rubbing one hand down Leo’s back as he reaches for his phone with the other, sighing as he settles back. This is normally the point where he’d start getting irritated and cold, but Leo is so warm and basically stuck to him at this point. “My skin always looks good after sex, what the hell. Selfie with me.”

 

Leo turns his head, blinking a bit sleepily up at the phone and giving it a satisfied, almost secretive little smile, curling his hand against Izumi’s chest proprietarily instead of flashing a peace sign. “Send that one to me, I’m gonna make it my background.”

 

“Ou-sama’s getting bold,” Izumi sighs, though he doesn’t protest in the slightest. He sends it over via Line, then drags one of the blankets over them, more or less burritoing them in his languid attempts to get comfortable. “Mm. Night, Ou-sama.”

 


	12. Chapter 12

Izumi sleeps the sleep of the dead, and slowly wakes to early light pouring over onto his face…and his phone’s incessant buzzing every few seconds.

 

Every muscle is creaky and stiff, courtesy of sleeping in weird positions contorted around Leo, and he still feels sticky and strange in odd places. It’s nothing a long shower can’t fix, and Izumi stifles a yawn as he carefully rolls away, slinging his legs over the side of the bed and reaching for his phone to flip it open. _Who the hell is texting me so early?_

 

It isn’t texts—it’s Twitter notifications, and he frowns, thumbing through them. _What photo did I post that’s getting this much attention all of a sudden?_

 

He freezes in sharp, abrupt horror when the very first thing on Knights’ Twitter is the selfie they’d taken last night— _Sent Via Line_ it declares, probably a fumbling slip of pressing keys when he was already half-asleep last night. Leo, all rumpled hair and sleepy, sated eyes, himself, still-flushed and…well, okay, looking like an AV star could be a worse compliment, but right now…

 

It sports _well_ over 1,000 retweets and likes.

 

Izumi groans, listing sideways until he thumps down onto the pillows again, dropping his phone to the floor. Disbelief sets in to join the icy terror that starts to grip him. _Do I delete it? Do I try to cover it up, saying it’s a preview of an all-Knights photobook? Fuck, fuck, fuck._

 

The sudden tensing and shifting of Izumi next to him wakes Leo, and he stretches slowly, hearing his body pop a little in joints he doesn’t often use. “Mm, morning, Sena,” he murmurs, then blinks when he notices how startled, how nervous Izumi looks. “Did I kick you in my sleep or something?”

 

“I,” Izumi begins, his voice too calm, too even, especially when he’s not quite able to move to pick up his phone just yet, “have fucked up.”

 

Leo cocks his head to the side. _Don’t ask if it’s about Yuuki,_ he warns himself, because this feels different. “Okay,” he says, and flops backwards onto the bed again.

 

Slowly, Izumi leans off the bed again, picks up his phone, and tries not to watch _more_ and _more_ notifications popping up as he passes it over to Leo. “It got posted to Knights’ twitter.”

 

“Oh. Our selfie from last night?” Leo looks, then smiles, reaching up to touch Izumi’s hair. “You look cute in it.”

 

“Are you still sleeping?” Izumi snaps, his voice panicky. “It’s on our unit’s public Twitter—anyone can see it! Over a thousand people already _have_ seen it. It’s—“ Izumi flips his phone around again, and buries his face into one hand. “It’s _really obvious_ that we just did it. Look, you can even see the huge hickey on my neck.”

 

“I didn’t even suck on your neck yesterday, I think,” Leo muses, peering at the photo. “Are you sure that isn’t chocolate? That’s happened to me before.”

 

**To: Izumi-chan**

**Subject: OMG**

**ARE YOU GUYS GOING PUBLIC??? THAT’S WILD OMG WHAT DID UR AGENT SAY CONGRATS!!!!!**

 

“You absolutely sucked my neck before you started fingering me, I remember this _very clearly._ Why are you so calm about this?! Ugh, fuck, Naru-kun’s awake, this is the worst.”

 

**To: Naru-kun**

**Subject: T_T**

**IT WAS A MISCLICK I’M FUCKED**

 

“Sena. Calm down.”

 

Leo climbs into Izumi’s lap, straddling his thighs, an urgent look on his face. “Everyone knows you do gravure. This is way less racy than that stuff, right?”

 

**To: Izumi-chan**

**Subject: OMG OMG**

**did u see we have more followers on twitter than fine now LOL**

 

**To: Naru-kun**

**Subject: WHO CARES**

**I**

**AM**

**GONNA GET FIRED**

 

Izumi tosses his phone back onto the bed, grabbing for Leo and crushing him to him as his face buries into his shoulder. “That’s not the _issue_ ,” he frantically says. “I could get fired—my agent is gonna flip out—your _parents_ might find out, if something happens to y-you because of me—“

 

Leo laughs, accepting the hug greedily because, honestly, there just aren’t enough hugs for him no matter how many he gets. “Sena, I’m pretty sure my parents have never heard of twitter. Heck, I’ve barely heard of twitter.”

 

**To: Izumi-chan**

**Subject: calm down!!!**

**whoa it has a LOT of retweets omg BUT IM SURE ITS FINE**

 

“Izumi-chan?” Sena Maya’s voice floats through the door, followed by a soft knock. “Hana-san from the agency is on the house phone, should I ask her to call back?”

 

“Please.” Izumi keeps the stutter out of his voice somehow, even if he feels pretty damned close to hyperventilating. Then again, if he doesn’t talk to his agent now, he’s _probably_ going to throw himself out of his window the next time she calls. “No, wait, just—hold on, I’ll be out in a second.”

 

He lifts Leo off of his lap without another word, hurriedly dresses, and stumbles out of his room, trying not to look as wide-eyed and panicked as he feels. “Morning. Um, did she say what it was about, or…”

 

Maya shrugs, looking flustered, curlers still in her hair, one hand over the receiver. “She’s talking really fast, I couldn’t tell,” she explains, handing the phone over. “If it’s too stressful just hang up, we’ll go to meditation.”

 

“No, it’s fine, I’ve got it.” Izumi snatches the phone away and immediately steps back into his bedroom, shutting the door in his mother’s face. “…Good morning, Hana-san.” He dives for the bed again, snatching up his own phone. _Do I delete it? There are probably already screencaps, fuck, I’m fucked._

 

**To: Naru-kun**

**Subject:**

**are you dumb do you not remember chika-san and her karaoke incident?? my agent is literally calling me right now i’m sof ucked i already hae two fucking suspensions on my record i’m scrwed**

 

“Good morning, Izumi-chan! You naughty, naughty boy, ah!! I could kill you. I could kiss you!” Izumi’s agent lets out a frustrated little noise, trying to get herself under control. “I can’t tell if you’re psychic or just out to make me have a heart attack. What possessed you to post that photograph this morning? Did you already know about the offer, or was this something else?”

 

“U-um…” Izumi stares at the house phone, entirely taken off-guard. He fumbles for a response for a moment, not entirely certain if this is a trap or not. It wouldn’t be the first time his agent has deliberately twisted her words around to get him to admit to things or to agree to things, after all. “I…sorry, what offer? I thought we already talked about the two that had come in.”

 

“Are you saying someone didn’t leak this?” There’s the sound of shuffling papers, then a shutting door, before her voice turns quieter. “There was some division at the agency, you know. Some people didn’t think you could handle an offer like this, but I knew you could pull off sexy with the right incentive. Honestly, you couldn’t have sent in anything better as an audition. Does that mean you want to say yes? About the AV, now that you’re eighteen?”

 

“Wait—what?”

 

Izumi honestly wishes he could rewind his agent’s words, just to make sure he’s hearing that correctly. _An AV?_ Joking about that kind of thing once in awhile with Arashi is one thing, but hearing it from his agent’s mouth is…something else. “U-um—hold on, Hana-san, this isn’t a joke, right? You’re not firing me?”

 

“That depends. Are you taking the job?” Her voice is still sweet, but there’s an edge of steel that Izumi will recognize. “If so, brilliant promo. If not...”

 

“I—“ Izumi’s gaze flicks frantically over to Leo, still in his bed. “What kind of AVs are we talking about?” No, that’s not firm enough. He hasn’t gotten to be a popular model by being a pushover. “Anything with girls will alienate my fanbase, and I don’t bottom. It has to be solo stuff only.”

 

It’s nearly possible to hear Hana’s lips purse over the phone. “I can work with that,” she says finally. “If you’re willing to agree to toys at least. We’ll start with a boyfriend video, just to drum up interest. Come by later, we’ll sign some stuff.”

 

“Toys are fine, but I’m picky.” _Am I actually having this conversation?_ Izumi flips open his phone again, fumbling through a hurried text. “I’ll come by this afternoon, I guess.”

 

**To: Naru-kun**

**Subject: ??????????**

**i just got offered an AV deal?????**

 

“Fine, fine. Oh, and Izumi-chan? If you ever post a photo with a girl like that again, I’ll rip your balls off myself.”

 

“…….Got it. Bye.” Izumi ends the call, staring at the phone for another moment before he slowly slides down his bedroom door to sit on the floor. “So that just happened.”

 

Leo shuts his own phone--he can deal with his own messages _later_ \--and looks up. “Did you get fired?”

 

“The opposite, I think.” Izumi blinks up at him from the floor, sort of dazed. “I just got offered a job doing porn.”

 

“Hahahaha, seriously?” Leo dangles his legs over the side of the bed, still unrepentantly nude. “They liked the selfie that much?”

 

“I mean, I guess I looked good?” Izumi helplessly flips back to the selfie in question, examining it. “And I definitely look like I just had sex. Huh. And I guess you _do_ look like a girl here. I was wondering why my agent didn’t bring up the gay thing…”

 

**To: Izumi-chan**

**Subject: ....**

**know what, fuck you, I can’t even hold Mika-chan’s hand in public because he thinks hes going to get murdered but you post a post-sex selfie and you get MORE WORK FOR IT how is that fair**

 

**To: Izumi-chan**

**Subject: SORRY**

**IM JUST FRUSTRATED how come you break all the rules and just get rewarded**

 

**To: Izumi-chan**

**Subject: congrats tho**

**im gonna buy a copy wwwwww**

 

Leo grimaces. “I hope no one thinks it’s Ruka-tan. Nah, no one would think she’d do something like that, she’s too little and cute.”

 

**To: Naru-kun**

**Subject: dude**

**my agent thought ou-sama was a girl**

 

**To: Naru-kun**

**Subject: also**

**you have a much more pure image than i do i’ve been slutty since day one i posed mostly naked in a car for my 13th birthday bc the girl that was supposed to do it dropped out**

 

**To: Naru-kun**

**Subject: tho**

**if you want in i. would do a video with you just saying**

 

“No one’s going to think it’s Ruka-chan,” Izumi sighs, crawling his way back over to the bed to plop down at Leo’s feet. “So, uh.” He hesitates, then bluntly asks, “Are you okay with this? If I go along with it, a lot of people are gonna see me naked. Like, more than usual. I told my agent I only wanted to do stuff by myself, but still.”

 

Leo turns his head, pillowing it on his hand, kicking his feet a bit. “Is us getting married going to tank your career when it happens? I don’t know anything about the AV industry, hmm. But if you’re alone...it’s your body, Sena. If you want to, it’s fine...I just don’t want you to do it because you’re covering up for me, or something? If you want to be a singer instead I’ll just write you songs forever, you don’t have to be scared into doing it.”

 

“There are plenty of married AV stars, they just keep it under wraps, just like idols do.” Izumi props his chin up onto the edge of his bed, peering up at him. “It’s not like I want to _just_ do AVs or modeling or anything. I want to sing all of your music. Real idols do everything. I mean, I’ve always kind of wanted a sex tape,” he admits. “It’s sort of glamorous, in a way. Just so long as it’s not anyone else touching me, gross.”

 

“I’d watch it,” Leo says, smiling. “I don’t think it’s really any different from you doing modeling? You’re very beautiful, Sena. And you could be inspiration for just about everyone.”

 

“…How much do you watch the video you already have of me?” Izumi can’t _help_ but ask. Relief already is starting to make him feel light-headed and giddy. “Ou-sama, if I start making AVs, it’s because I’m going to be trying to inspire _you_ to jump me more often.”

 

“ _More_ often?” Leo teases, rolling over onto his belly, resting his chin on his folded arms. “Sena, you’re going to strain your muscles at this rate, haha!” He grins, hair falling into his face. “I might be a greedy king, but not a jealous one. You’re the one I love, not my possession.”

 

“Then be greedy and take up more of my time than anything or anyone else ever could.” The words are too honest for him and make his skin hot the second they leave his mouth, but Izumi refuses to take them back. He huffs, and lurches up, stealing a quick kiss from Leo’s mouth. “And write me more songs. I’m not going to disappear.”

 

_What if I do?_

 

Leo bites those words down. No, he’d promised that he wouldn’t, hadn’t he? And a king keeps his word, even when the promise is so, so hard to envision keeping in the future.

 

So he smiles, and nods. “I’ll be your siren, luring you in, then. And any time you start to drift away, I’ll bring you back with another song.”

 

“You better.”

 

Izumi reaches for Leo’s hair, pulling gently on the loose mess of it. “You can brag to all your new, lame college friends that you’re engaged to an AV star. Whether they believe you or not is up to debate, but I’ll make sure to show up and prove it.”

 

Leo smiles, and pushes his hair hack from his forehead, turning an idea over in his mind. “Hey...Sena...will you...come to my house today?”

 

“Yeah, sure. I have to go into the agency this afternoon, so…before or after that?” Izumi runs his fingers down Leo’s arm. “Are we telling them?”

 

“Yeah.” Leo turns his hand, cupping Izumi’s fingers. _Of course he’d know._ “Ruka-tan first. But they should hear it from me, you know?”

 

“…Honest question, and not a joke,” Izumi says after a short pause, slowly squeezing Leo’s hand. “Do you want me to dress super femme? I, uh, honestly don’t know how your family’s gonna take this, but maybe if I look girlier, they might soften on it? Or would that just make it worse?” Being _very_ accustomed to a family _very_ accepting of non-traditional things is not the norm, and Izumi _is_ aware of that much.

 

The thought of what they might say twists Leo’s belly, but honestly, the idea of living quietly, always afraid of his parents finding out who he truly is, who he truly loves...that doesn’t hold any appeal. That’s far scarier than what they might say right now. “I just want you to be yourself,” he says with a shrug. “How’d it go when you told yours? I’m...I think mine will probably just say that it’s fine as long as no one ever finds out, honestly. Just warning you.”

 

“My parents…” Izumi scoffs, finally hauling himself back onto the bed to drop down next to Leo. “My parents got excited and took me to Hawaii to celebrate. But my mom grew up there and in California—she’s nisei, you know—so she’s got a totally different outlook on things. They offered to move out of the country if I thought it would be easier.” He shrugs, poking at the back of Leo’s hand. “I don’t _want_ to be vocal and out about it. I can’t be, in the kind of work I wanna keep doing. So your parents saying that doesn’t bother me. I just…don’t want them to freak out on you or anything.”

 

The smile on Leo’s face is a bit forced, but he squeezes Izumi’s hand, then gets up to start putting his clothes on. If the way Izumi’s phone is still lighting up with notifications is any indication, handling this sooner is probably better. “I have trouble being myself around them,” he admits. “I could probably keep it quiet for a while, but...Mm, they’d start asking about girls soon, since I’m not going to be an idol in college, you know? And then it wouldn’t feel like hiding, it’d feel like lying.”

 

“Yeah.” Izumi rakes a hand back through his hair before he rolls out of bed again, beelining towards the bathroom to actually get ready for the day. “We’ll deal with it, it’s fine. I’ll be on my best behavior. Ahh, if you go downstairs, my mom’ll feed you. I’ll meet you in a minute.”

 

Leo almost moves to join Izumi in the shower instead, but swerves away at the last moment, moving downstairs instead. Izumi’s mother has left for the day, it turns out, but she’s also left lots of food ready to be eaten, which he makes his way through slowly, not really tasting the fresh fruit and toast. It’s easy to picture his parents looking disappointed in him, maybe frustrated, probably confused that he’s saying any of this out loud instead of keeping it hidden like a good Japanese boy.

 

Antsy, he picks up his phone.

 

**To: Ruka-tan**

**Subject: :D**

**You home? Your awesome big bro wants to talk to you and see your super cute face!!**

 

**To: Onii-chan**

**Subject: >(**

**You didn’t come home last night! ●** **︿** **● i wanted to tell you how cool your show was. I’ll be home until lunch, then i’m going out with friends…**

 

**To: Ruka-an**

**Subject: ;w;**

**I was being really uncool, you don’t want to see me like that. Wait for me? 30 mins.**

 

“Sena? We’ve got to get to my place pretty soon if we’re going to catch Ruka-tan...”

 

**To: Onii-chan**

**Subject: ok…**

**I’ve seen you be uncool a lot lately, it’s nothing new now!**

 

“Don’t rush me! Tell her I’m coming, she’ll stick around.”

 

**To: Ruka-tan**

**Subject: pleeeeease**

**don’t go before i get there?? Sena is coming and he wants to say hi!!**

 

“Your skin already looks beautiful, what are you doing in there?”

 

“Do you think it stays like this without work? Ugh, I’m hurrying, I’m hurrying!”

 

**To: Onii-chan**

**Subject: oH**

**OK i’ll wait!!!** **٩** **(^ᴗ^)** **۶**

 

A few minutes later, Izumi stalks his way down the stairs, hair perfectly styled, skin dewy and glistening, and dressed to look like he’s about to head to a modeling shoot right this moment in tight jeans and a long-sleeved shirt that shows off quite a bit of his shoulders. “I have to go into work after this, remember?” Izumi exasperatedly says, picking up a piece of toast and taking a bite before putting it back down. “She’s waiting around, isn’t she?”

 

“She loves you,” Leo says simply, and shrugs on his coat, looping his arm through Izumi’s. “It runs in the Tsukinaga family, soon to be the Sena-Tsukinaga family.”

 

“At least it has a nice ring to it,” Izumi mutters, donning his own coat and winding a scarf back around Leo’s neck. He grabs a couple of masks from the box by the door, passing one over. “Are you going to be okay with me breaking your sister’s heart? She buys my bromides and _everything._ ”

 

“It’ll be good for her to learn that all boys apart from her brother are horrible rakes not to be trusted,” Leo says cheerfully, allowing himself to be wrapped before donning his mask. “Now she can buy your bromides because you’re her brother-in-law.”

 

“Heh. Maybe her going to an all-girl’s school next year will turn her into a lesbian,” Izumi teases, pulling his boots on and hooking his own mask into place. “Runs in the family, you know. Then your family’s really going to have to learn how to deal.”

 

“Does it really run in the family? Liking girls, or being...hmm, homo?” Leo asks, wriggling into his shoes and opening the door, letting a couple orange and black cats in to run across his feet. “But I like Sena, both the girl and boy parts.”

 

“Oi, don’t let those cats in!” Izumi protests, whipping around to stare at the fluffy things that stare back at him, all but daring him to chase after them. “Don’t tell your parents that,” he warns, turning around to try and catch the strays. “Then they’ll want to know why you aren’t just dating a girl, if you don’t have a problem with it.”

 

Leo grabs one of the cats, blinking. “This isn’t your cat? Ah, sorry, I thought Sena bought a couple of cats. Look, he likes you!”

 

“They’re going to shed on _everything_ , put them back outside,” Izumi exasperatedly replies, hesitating when it comes to picking up the other cat. “You pick it up, I can’t have cat hair all over me when I go in for work. They’re always around here, Mama feeds them sometimes, but they aren’t _ours._ ”

 

Leo catches both cats with ease, gently dumping them outside before looping his arm through Izumi’s, dragging him outside afterwards. “You wear a lot of black. Maybe we should get black cats when we get our own house.”

 

“Why do we have to have cats at all?” Izumi complains, turning back to lock the door. “I mean, if you want them, fine…but _you_ get to clean up after them.” He wavers, then grumpily adds, “White cats are way cuter than black ones.”

 

“Okay!” Leo beams behind his mask, blinking in the bright light. “We can get a lot of lint rollers. I want a white cat with gray eyes that looks like you, anyway.”

 

“…Don’t name it Sena.” Leo needs to stop being cute. It’s distracting, and annoying, and Izumi leans down to plant a kiss to his mouth through both their masks. “Let’s go do this, Ou-sama.”

 


	13. Chapter 13

**To: Naru-kun**

**Subject: hey**

**can i come over**

 

It’s a miracle Izumi makes his hands stop shaking enough to type that.

 

It’s been a long time since he’s asked that. He remembers the first time, after he’d been suspended from their agency, after Makoto had rejected him so _soundly_. He doesn’t remember what the last time was about, but he still remembers it, how he’d showed up and just curled up in Arashi’s bed for awhile, staring listlessly at the wall, itchy and hating himself while Arashi’s cat purred obnoxiously next to his head.

 

In an hour, he’s supposed to be at work, probably signing a contract that’s going to make him the popular model he was when he was younger, before Knights consumed his life, but how can he do that when Leo isn’t with him? _It’s like he’s in a prison._

 

Now, he’s back at his house, locked in his bathroom, shaky and entirely unsure of what to do.

 

Arashi is probably with his cute, nervous boyfriend, though. It was a lot easier when they were fucking around, actually. Now he just feels like a fucking _imposition_ , and his fingers twitch on his phone, holding it tighter.

 

**To: Izumi-chan**

**Subject: Yep**

**I’ve got tea on and the blankets warming, everyone’s out for the day.**

 

**To: Naru-kun**

**Subject: ok**

**b there in 10**

 

Izumi doesn’t really remember the brisk subway ride over, or the walk to Arashi’s apartment. He’s still shaking when he knocks on the door, an aching mix of hurt and rage and _panic_ refusing to leave, and he folds his arms across his chest, huddling into his coat, breathing a hot, wet breath into his mask.

 

Arashi doesn’t even blink. It’s not the first time, just the first time in a long time, and he opens the door, then lifts Izumi easily in his arms, kicking the door shut behind him and carrying him to his bedroom. Usually, he’d admonish Izumi for not eating enough--he’s light to a degree that’s worrisome--but now is hardly the time. After tucking Izumi into the warm blankets and dumping Nyaanko on his head, he moves to his desk, flicking on some of their old concert music and pulling out his homework. “Lemme know if you want me on the bed,” he offers.

 

“Yeah.”

 

Izumi rolls, thumping facedown, and flops out an arm, fingers curling in a grabbing motion. “Cold,” he mutters. “You can do homework. I just want to lay on you.”

 

“Okay.”

 

Arashi moves to the bed, forgoing math and pulling out a novel he’s supposed to have read for Japanese Lit, crawling onto the bed and shifting so Izumi is essentially draped across his lap. “I know, I know, I’m a furnace.”

 

“Yeah.” Izumi doesn’t bother readjusting himself beyond curling up tighter underneath the blankets, burying himself there against Arashi. Arashi _is_ a furnace, thank god. He can’t stop shaking still, and he grabs for a pillow to sink his hands into. His nails are too long and it would be too easy to use them. Not helpful, not helpful.

 

It’s a long moment before he finally pieces together enough words to say anything, to explain anything. Arashi is warm and his breathing is steady and strong, and the turning pages of his book lull Izumi’s mind to…not calm, nothing like calm, but functioning. Sort of. “I…might have ruined everything.” 

 

“With Ou-sama?” It’s better not to guess too much. Arashi has learned that in the past, with Izumi’s previous meltdowns sending him right here to lay on his lap. Sometimes he wants to talk and be held, when others he just wants to stare at Arashi’s cat for a few hours. “He’s a pretty forgiving guy...”

 

“It’s not…he’s not upset with me.” _Not yet._ It’s probably on a matter of time that Leo is furious that Izumi has ruined his life, which is fair, and par for the course. “His parents. That’s…that’s the problem.” His voice is quiet, hollow, and it’s too easy to let the scene run again and again in his head—telling Ruka, Leo’s parents overhearing, them refusing to listen, refusing to talk about it, refusing to even look at Izumi, refusing to acknowledge that he was there, losing his temper when they insist Leo is grounded, and their cold dismissal. “I don’t know what to do.”

 

Arashi sucks in a breath. It’s hard not to look startled ( _don’t spook him worse!_ ) when the idea of flat-out telling _parents_ about this kind of thing shakes him to the bone. “Yikes,” he says softly, because, shit, what else is there to say? “Is this like, they suspect, or like, walked in on you two?”

 

“No.” Izumi slowly turns, flopping onto his back, staring up at Arashi, still red-eyed and blotchy from crying so hard he’d thrown up half an hour ago. “I…last night. I asked him…I…ugh.” He pulls the pillow over his face. “I proposed to him.”

 

“ _What?_ ”

 

It’s a shriek, and Arashi clamps a hand over his mouth. “Sorry, sorry, I just... _wow_ , that’s _huge_ , you know? I’m a little shocked you didn’t even tell _me_ , but...”

 

“I-it was an impulse. I mean—I planned to do it, just not last night, but I…we…” Izumi trips over his own words, groaning as he does, and presses the pillow harder to his face, wishing he could suffocate right then and there. “He was having a bad night,” he mumbles. “A really bad night.”

 

“Eh? _Last_ night?” Arashi knows he is sometimes sort of blind to how people are feeling, but last night... “What the hell happened after we had our awesome Live revenge and shabu shabu?”

 

“Ou-sama started talking about what he’s doing after graduation.”

 

“Ah? Is it...not good?”

 

“He’s going to college.” Izumi pulls the pillow off his face, his stare indignant. “Like, _normal_ college. Like business degree college.”

 

“Eh? Like, for normal people?” Arashi’s stare is uncomprehending. “What the heck is _Ou-sama_ gonna do there? He can’t even fake normal.”

 

“Yeah, he can. He does it all the time with his family, it’s fucking awful. They don’t know what he’s like at all; it’s like he’s a completely different person around them, and it’s like they don’t even try to notice that he’s m-miserable.” The words choke up in his throat, and Izumi sniffs, scrubbing a hand across the back of his eyes again. “So he’s going to normal college like a normal person because his family is so _fucking_ normal, and he finally told me and had a freak out about it and…and everything else. I think he was freaking out before the Live even started, but we didn’t get into that.”

 

Arashi bites his lip, then admonishes himself because hey, chapping, and puts his arms around Izumi as unobtrusively as he can. “I never...seriously? _Ou-sama_ , his family thinks he’s normal? Ugh, they sound shitty, he must be miserable. Is he...you said they found out, about you two getting engaged, or just...?”

 

“…We went over to tell them. About us, in general.” Izumi bites his own lip, feeling the tension start to spread through his limbs again, and he hunkers slowly down into a ball, drawing his knees up to his chest. “B-because…well, fuck, probably should if we’re gonna get married, right? But he was sick of hiding that much from them, at least, a-and I had fucked up with Twitter last night, anyway. He didn’t want them to hear about it from someone else. He was so s-sure they would just be like…whatever, do whatever, just don’t tell anyone, which would be fine, you know?” He folds his arms around himself, shivering, and scratches at his upper arms through the thin fabric of his shirt. “They overheard us telling Ruka-chan first. And they…any time I tried to say anything, they’d just talk over me, like I wasn’t there. They wouldn’t let him explain anything, just said they’d ‘talk about it later.’”

 

Arashi sucks in a breath. “Ooh...That’s.... _really_ Japanese,” he says sympathetically, patting Izumi’s back. “Stop scratching. My brother is dating a girl whose family is like that. Not the same, obviously, but he’s always scared he’s gonna say something and they’ll get her an omiai with someone else.”

 

“Do my nails for me or something.” He has to do something with his hands, or he’s going to keep at it, he knows himself well enough. “I—yeah. I lost my temper,” Izumi admits with a wet laugh. “Like a total fucking idiot. I just couldn’t stand it, you know? And they ignored even that, and grounded him—for not coming home last night, or so they said—and the only thing they said to me the whole time was asking me to leave. I…” His lower lip trembles. “I d-don’t what to do. I don’t know…how to deal with parents like this, mine are…they’re…my mom was ready to drive us to Shibuya last _night_.”

 

“You have a specific color in mind?” Arashi asks. Fortunately, a lot of his nail polish is accessible from where he sits on the bed, and he plucks a clear bottle first, preparing the surface. This whole topic is a little _big_ for him, but hopefully he can be some comfort like this, even if this is all he can do. “You know your parents are like...way cuter and nicer than average, right?”

 

“Surprise me.” Izumi sucks in a long, deep breath, trying to steady himself as much as hands. “I know my parents are…yeah. That way. Do you…have you ever thought about telling your parents? About you and Kage-kun?” Arashi’s difficult to read when it comes to relationships, and that’s nothing new, but god, he needs some perspective on this when he absolutely _none._

 

“Hmm....that’s kind of a loaded question.” Arashi dabs little circlets of polish on each nail, carefully dragging the brush down from cuticles to tips. “We’re a lot less...serious, than you two. And his parents aren’t really...hmm. I’ve thought about telling mine, yeah, but my problem is...”

 

It’s nothing he wants to talk about, honestly. But is there anything else he can, _should_ do, when Izumi is so upset? Gritting his teeth, he admits, “I’m worried he might need somewhere to stay next year, and I’m not sure if Mom and Dad would be more likely if they knew, or less.”

 

“…Wait, but doesn’t he live with Itsuki?” Which is already weird, of course, and the gossip of the third years at any given point. “That guy won’t kick him out. He’s nuts, but…”

 

“And if Itsuki goes to college?” Arashi shrugs. “Or wants to move in with someone else? Once he’s graduated, Mika-chan is on kinda shaky ground, you know.”

 

“Of course you’re thinking that far ahead already,” Izumi mutters, his eyes lidding. “You’re a shitty liar, Naru-kun. If you’re thinking like that, you’re pretty serious.”

 

“This isn’t that far ahead!” Arashi protests, moving on to the second hand. At least with Izumi he doesn’t have to instruct him not to move or touch anything. “Two months, maybe three. And he won’t tell me what his home life was like in Kansai, so I’m pretty sure he won’t want to go back if things get bad.”

 

“You could always _ask him_ what his plans are, and not be a dumbass like me who waits for their boyfriend to dump them on him last second.” Izumi draws his finished hand back, blowing on the drying polish—light blue, at least, nothing garish. “This is so annoying,” he mutters. “Like—what do I even do? I mean, I could kidnap him. I would. Is it still kidnapping if he’s into it?”

 

“Izumi-chan, no matter how many times you ask me that question, it’s always going to be the same answer.”

 

“But it’s Ou-sama! It’s different.” Izumi hesitates. “Maybe.”

 

“Remember last time you started talking about kidnapping someone, and I was like, ‘Izumi-chan, that’s not a good idea,’ and you didn’t listen to me? How’d that one end up?”

 

“I’m hearing you, I’m hearing you, you shitty okama.” Which reminds him—“Fuck. Uh, can you get my phone out of my pocket for me and text Hana-san? I’m supposed to be meeting her like, right now, and I’m _not_ coming in.”

 

Arashi sets the nail polish aside, plucking out the phone as requested and pulling up the texts. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll just tell her you had a family thing and can’t come in, but are still really excited about working with her on the new project, probably tell her she’s in the way, right?”

 

“More or less. Thanks.” Izumi sighs, resting his hands on his knees. “Okay. If I’m not kidnapping him…I wonder if I could convince him to move in with me. I can tell the idea of a college dorm stresses him out. To be fair, that also stresses _me_ out.”

 

“The idea of living in a dorm, or the idea of Ou-sama in a dorm?” The idea occurs to Arashi--their exuberant, personable, wild-spirited Leader in the confines of a little room with bare walls, and he cringes. “Yikes. Do you think his folks would--oh, you’re getting a text from him.”

 

**To: Sena**

**Subject: :/**

**Sorry for worrying you!! are you okay? I got my phone back...**

 

Izumi snatches the phone away so fast that he smudges three of his nails.

 

**To: Ou-sama**

**Subject: ???**

**i’m fine. are you ok?? sorry i lost it before. did they say anything else to you?**

 

“Both,” Izumi mutters, briefly shutting his eyes and sucking in a deep breath, feeling those nervous, twitchy shakes start up again. “Both ideas stress me out. Sorry, I fucked up my right hand.”

 

“It’s fine, I’ll redo it after you’re done,” Arashi assures him, petting his hair absently with one hand, reaching for his own phone with the other, idly flipping through cute photos of Mika with his cat.

 

**To: Sena**

**Subject: XD**

**it’s fine. THEY ARE SILLY and can’t ground me for what they won’t admit is real HAHAHA**

 

**To: Sena**

**Subject:**

**u free later? Im gonna sneak out when theyre asleep. Sorry I fell asleep for a little while before they got distracted...its soooo boring in my room**

 

“He really is a fucking alien. Look at this,” Izumi suddenly snaps, shoving the phone in Arashi’s face. “I hate this shit. He does this all the time when he’s feeling shitty and it drives me nuts.” He jerks the phone away again. _“Ugh.”_

 

**To: Ou-sama**

**Subject:**

**i skipped out on work. just come over again whenever and i’ll be around.**

 

Arashi blinks at the phone. “Does what, falls asleep? Mika-chan always does that when he’s feeling weird or lonely or hungry.”

 

**To: Sena**

**Subject: ok**

**might be a while but I hope you’re having fun!! hug your manager for me!!**

 

“No, when he—forget it.”

 

**To: Ou-sama**

**Subject:**

**write me something while you’re stuck there.**

 

He almost deletes the message, then sends it anyway, his face suddenly hot. Shoving his phone away again, Izumi plops his hands back down onto his knees. “Fix them. So what’s your boyfriend gonna do next year when Valkyrie isn’t a thing?”

 

**To: Sena**

**Subject:**

**im always writing you something. i hope youre listening bc i can’t see it right now**

 

“I’m trying to get him to join Knights,” Arashi says with a sigh. “He’s _such_ a good singer and dancer, and when he tries, he’s got incredible stage presence. I mean, he’s _really_ weird for Knights’ image, but it would be so _fun_ to have him there!”

 

Izumi deliberately doesn’t look at his phone. He can just _feel_ that it’s upsetting. “Naru-kun. Do you want me to be really honest with you?”

 

“If you’re going to be mean about Mika-chan in the guise of being honest, I’m going to make you eat this nail polish. But if it’s about something else, go for it.”

 

“I’m not going to be mean about him. I think he’s really cute. But he absolutely doesn’t belong in Knights and he’d be miserable and you’d be miserable and, uh. I don’t think he can even wink in public, let alone flirt with a girl.”

 

Arashi grimaces. “I mean, yeah. Okay, yeah, fine. But no one else is inviting him anywhere, you know? And I get scared that if he feels like he doesn’t have a place, he’ll go back to Kansai no matter how bad it was, just so he’s not a burden. Ugh, why is he this way?”

 

“Because he’s a weird goth kid, I don’t know. Like, he’s cute, I’ll give you that, but he’s the kind of cute where you put cat ears on him or something, not a military uniform. If he’s so good, he should just start up a solo unit. Or does that scare him, too?” For once, it’s not mocking, just sort of exasperated.

 

“Of course it does. But...” Arashi thinks over his words, then says hesitantly, “He’s also a lot stronger than he thinks. I think it might be good for him, sticking around once Itsuki’s gone, you know? But all he can talk about is throwing himself on Itsuki’s funeral pyre...ugh. At least Ou-sama is yours alone, you know?”

 

“And with great privilege comes great responsibility,” Izumi wryly says. “Are you sure those two aren’t…like…involved at all? He’s pretty obsessed with Itsuki, from what I’ve seen, and I think we all know Itsuki’s about as straight as a circle. How sure are you that he isn’t just going to drop out and help Itsuki with Valkyrie?”

 

Arashi huffs. Izumi’s not coming from a bad place, but the thought is still an obnoxious one. “I trust him, is all. Besides, he says Itsuki is more like a father figure. I mean, I’d have guessed “creepy uncle figure,” but to each their own, right? I guess...I guess that guy _has_ been making an effort.” He wavers, then spills. “And apparently he’s dating someone.”

 

“Whaaat, seriously?” Izumi is hard-pressed not to burst out laughing. “Who would date that guy? I mean, I guess that’s good for you, huh?” He leans in, eyebrows raised. “Do you want _me_ to ask Itsuki if he plans on booting Kage-kun? He talks to me because I’m pretty.”

 

“I’m pretty,” Arashi says with a pout. “But he’s scared of me, I guess. Apparently Mika told him I’m on a sports team and now I’m terrifying.”

 

“Different kind of pretty. To be fair, didn’t you outright say, in public, that you’d punch Itsuki?”

 

“I...yes. Well, yes.” Arashi reaches for the clear nail polish again, beckoning for Izumi’s right hand. “Are you feeling calmer now, by the way?”

 

“That’s why he’s scared of you. Because you hit hard, and everyone knows it.” Izumi stretches out his hand again, exhaling a long, slow breath. “Yeah. I am. Sorry.” Apologizing in detail for this kind of thing is always awkward and uncomfortable, but he makes an attempt, anyway, because it’s Arashi. “I’ve been on a good streak,” he mutters, watching the methodical way Arashi fixes and repaints his smudged nails. “I didn’t want to fuck up, especially—god, this is so fucking superficial that even I’m disgusted. If I’m going into more nude and actual AV shit.”

 

“Oh, gasp, wanting to look good for the camera, something _totally_ unknown and foreign to me.” Despite the words, Arashi’s tone is gentle, as are his hands on Izumi’s. “I’m glad you came over instead of doing something stupid, though. Does...does Ou-sama know?”

 

“…He calls it his sheet music.” Izumi’s eyes might be a little too bright at that for it to be normal. “I know you probably think it’s weird. The first time he said that, though…I…he made it so much _less_ weird and I felt like I didn’t have to hide it from him. Fuck, tell me to shut up before I give you more fodder to torment me with later, I’m word-vomiting.”

 

 

Arashi sighs, then screws the cap back on the polish, setting it to the side. “It was easier when it was just you and me, wasn’t it?” he asks quietly, staring out the window. “Not that we were, like, _dating_ , but...it was easier. Actually dating is hard. I’m starting to think I’m really not cut out for it, in the end.”

  


“Actually dating is hard,” Izumi agrees, slowly listing to the side to thump his shoulder against Arashi’s. “I dunno. From what I saw, I think you’d be a decent boyfriend. Maybe you just need to stop going after the crazy ones, no offense.” 

  


Arashu shrugs. “Maybe. I just...they wouldn’t need me as much. Ah, that’s gross, isn’t it? I wouldn’t say that to anyone else.”

  


“Mm. I get it though.” Izumi stares up at him through his lashes. “It feels nice to be needed. Good looks only get you so far at the end of the day, I guess. Yuu-kun made that obvious. You could’ve asked me out, though, I would’ve said yes.”

  


“Yeah.” What is there to say to that, though? He’d known that if he acted serious, that if he told Izumi that he really wanted to _date_ , that he’d have said yes, and he hadn’t. The honest truth is that it’s because he just hadn’t wanted to, or hadn’t been ready, or hadn’t seen a future for them, or all three at once. “Glad I didn’t. You’ve always been in love with him, haven’t you?”  


Izumi grimaces, leaning away and raking a hand back through his hair, restlessly mussing it. “Kinda,” he says at first, then, resignedly, “Yeah. I would’ve been a bad boyfriend. I had a crush on him since first year. I’m glad you didn’t ask me out. You’re a great lay, though.” 

  


Arashi chews on his lip, a sudden storm of insecurity making him forget the taste of his balm. “I wasn’t...too bossy? Or inflexible?”

  


“...Are we talking in life, or in bed?” 

  


“Bed. I don’t care about how I come across in life.”

  


“I feel that. Uhh...I mean, you never got on my nerves because I’m easy and like it however, so maybe I’m the wrong person to ask? Why, did Kage-kun get pissed off that you won’t do it missionary?” 

  


“We haven’t...” Arashi’s eyes flick down. “Being facedown makes him nervous. And you know I have a thing. So we haven’t yet.”

  


“ _Seriously?_ ” Izumi bolts upright, staring at him. “ _Geez_ , Naru-kun. No judgement, but unless your sex drive has taken a serious dive, you--are you like, _okay?_ ” 

  


Arashi rolls his eyes, sprawling back on his bed. “You know, not doing it for a while doesn’t kill you or anything. I’ve still got a hand. Jeez, Izumi-chan, what did you _do_ when I was busy for a night?”

  


“Are you telling me _I’m_ the one to blame for _all_ the times we did it in the dance room?” Izumi scoffs, eyeing him for a moment before flopping down next to Arashi, stretching out next to him. “Is it him touching you during it, too, or is it just that you don’t want him to see your o-face?” 

  


  


Arashi doesn’t exactly grimace, but his face flickers through just the shadow of an emotion before he responds. “Thought you didn’t notice.”

  


“I’m crazy, not stupid.” 

  


“Heh.” It’s about all the humor Arashi can summon right now, but at least he’s able to keep from letting ugly emotions take his face over. That kind of thing causes unsightly wrinkles at best, depression and hair-dying at worst. “Mika-chan hasn’t figured it out yet, so...I don’t really want to bring it up.”

  


Izumi flops an arm over Arashi’s stomach. He remembers, abruptly, the time he’d made a joke about how he wished _he’d_ be sexually harassed once in awhile, maybe thrown into a wall against his will and how fun it’d be, and how Arashi had done just that, furious and as near-tears as Izumi had ever seen him. Two days later, plus or minus chocolate cake and dogeza and foot rubs with bruises down his entire side, it had been enough of an apology, but...Izumi still can’t forget it, and he’d fucking learned his lesson. “You’re not obligated to tell him or anything.” He pauses, and wryly adds, “Is reverse cowgirl out?” 

  


“For the first time?” Arashi asks, scandalized. “Ugh, I’ll just have to get over it. My O-face can’t look _that_ bad, I’ve been trying to work on it.” And as for the other stuff, well, he’ll just have to get over that, too. If even Izumi has noticed, it’s not nearly as little of his life as he’d like it to be, so it’s time to get rid of that nonsense once and for all. 

  


“Naru-kun, your o-face is fine. Not that I’ve seen it _extensively_ or anything,” Izumi hastily adds before Arashi shoves him off the bed. “I just caught a peek when we were doing it, like, once. It’s not like you make weird noises or anything when you come, that’d be way worse.” He pokes at Arashi’s hip. “He’s small and cute. Just think about taking care of him and making it good for him. If he wants to cling to your back and kiss you when you fuck, that’s good, right?” 

  


“I mean...it’s good in _theory_ ,” Arashi grumbles, grabbing for a nail file. It’s a lot easier to talk when his hands are busy, especially when they’re busy making him look beautiful. “I mean, he’s obviously working through a lot of stuff, so it’s not like I want to rush him, but lately it’s been...the other way around.” Mika is not, it turns out, great at taking no for an answer when he really wants something, something Arashi knows Itsuki has discovered time after time. 

  


“The curse of being hot, huh. Everyone climbs you like a tree.” Izumi curls up against Arashi’s side, resting his cheek on his shoulder, content to stay there and soak in his warmth when he still feels jittery and gross. At least talking about something that isn’t his particular problem is distracting and cathartic. “Would it freak him out if you strung his hands up with like, your tie or something? Then he’s on his back, but he can’t touch you...sorry, tell me if this isn’t helping.” 

  


“It’s fine, but you can stop,” Arashi says with a sigh, moving on to shape another nail. “And I want you to. Hey, you wanna stress eat something? The conbini on the corner restocks around this time.”

  


“...” Izumi leans around to check the time on Arashi’s bedside alarm clock. “Yeah. Fuck it. I can’t make weigh-in and I know it.” 

  


“Hey, at this point, just go for most-improved next week,” Arashi suggests, a trick that they’ve both used multiple times. “That should cover the fee, right?”

  


“I’m at 62 this week, it’s not happening.” Izumi hauls himself upright, clapping his hands to his cheeks to try and shake off that horrible, lingering shaky feeling. The mention of food makes it worse, unfortunately, because a bite of toast for breakfast isn’t exactly enough to ride the wave of a panic attack. “Ou-sama’s metabolism is so ridiculous, it pisses me off.” 

  


“If you pass out, I’m not carrying you back,” Arashi says, entirely falsely, and stashes his nail file. “We won’t go full-Tsukasa or anything, just a little bitty slice of something nice. You don’t look like you’ve eaten all day.”

  


**To: Izumi-chan**

**Subject: Are you okay?**

**Mama-sense tingling. How’s Leo-kun?**

  


“...Yeah, all right. Sorry, hold on, it’s my mom.” 

  


**To: Mama**

**Subject: yes**

**:/ he’s ok. can we talk when i get home?**

  


Izumi turns his phone around after sending the text, taking a picture of his nails quickly to post to his own twitter ( _Knights colored!_ ). “Okay, let’s go. I’m going to destroy some chocolate.”

  



	14. Chapter 14

If Leo didn’t eavesdrop, he wouldn’t learn anything. That’s what he believes, anyway, so why waste time learning things any other way when this has always worked?

  


Nevertheless, it isn’t his _intention_ to eavesdrop this time. He’d warned Izumi that he’d be sneaking out, of course. His parents might be a little...less than understanding, a little typically Japanese when it comes to these things, but their disapproval hasn’t made them any more strict about keeping him in his room, and it’s as easy as ever to sneak out when they go to sleep. It would be better if he had Sena’s arms to fall into, but he’s good at landing softly when he leaps out his window. He’s done it often enough, after all. Their houses aren’t even that far apart, certainly not far when he’s moving quickly, legs carrying him towards Izumi’s house at a dead run that even Narukami Arashi couldn’t hope to match. 

  


Still, Izumi hates sweat, so he makes sure not to do any of that, and he’s still dry when he arrives at Izumi’s house. Their locks are more complicated than Leo’s own, but it still pops free easily when he wiggles it around a little with a pin. “Sena?” he calls softly, eyes adjusting to the dim light of Izumi’s room. 

  


There’s no response. His eyes adjust, and he can clearly see that Izumi’s bed hasn’t been slept in. Leo climbs inside fully, shutting the window behind him, and creeps downstairs.

  


It doesn’t take long to hear what they’re saying, and Leo’s heart nearly stops. A minute later, he sits on the stairs, listening, hearing words like _Papa and I are willing to pay for half, as long as you’re comfortable with the other half,_ and _Are you sure his parents are going to allow you two to live together,_ and _I’d be so much more comfortable if we could just talk to his parents first._  

  


Usually when he’s eavesdropping he waits for his moment, then dives into the conversation. This time he just sits, trying not to cry, listening to Izumi and his mother planning their future. _What’s it like, to have parents like that? Mine love me, they want the best for me, but it’s...nothing like this._

  


Izumi had once told him that home is where you’re allowed to be a lunatic. For the first time, Leo doesn’t think, deep down, that Izumi was lying.

  


“Talking to them is just gong to make it worse. Don’t look at me like that, Mama, just--please, trust me on this? I already tried.”

  


It’s a few more minutes of convincing and a few more promises to finagle out details in the morning before Izumi wishes his parents a good night and heads towards the stairs. He honestly _is_ tired, after the day he’s had; hopefully Leo isn’t going to be too late about sneaking in, or Izumi’s going to be asleep by--

  


Izumi freezes, stumbling on the first pair of stairs, confronted with the sight of Leo sitting there. “...You know, when you said you’d be sneaking in, I thought--I didn’t think you meant it _literally_ ,” he manages, suddenly nervous and unsure. _How much did he hear? Fuck, did I fuck up? Was Naru-kun right, should I have run this by him first?_

  


Leo blinks up, cat’s eyes green in the low light, and offers a small smile. “Always expect me in an unexpected way, Sena. Mm, I’m stuck. Help me up. Your king is old and fragile.”

  


“You’re not old,” Izumi exasperatedly says, but he reaches down, grabbing Leo’s wrists to pull him straight. “One, two, three, jump.” 

  


Leo hurls himself into Izumi’s arms, probably harder than he needs to, but he’s not stupid. Izumi is far, far stronger than he always lets on, and far better at catching and carrying people than anyone would imagine. He might cling to Izumi’s neck a little harder than he intends, but not so hard to make it a _problem_ , probably. “Your Mama is going to think I’m useless,” he mutters into Izumi’s shoulder.

  


Izumi grunts, swaying once with the additional weight, but it’s par for the course for Leo now. What makes him waver more is the conversation, and Izumi says nothing as he adjusts Leo in his arms and carries him the rest of the way up the stairs to his bedroom. Leo can probably feel how his heart is beating too-fast, and that makes him _more_ nervous, how annoying. 

  


“No, she’s not. You’re going to school.” Izumi nudges the door to his bedroom open, and tosses Leo onto his bed, watching how he bounces. He folds his arms restlessly, then drops down onto the edge of the bed. “You’re a stupid king, not a useless one.” 

  


“I feel like both,” Leo confesses, then moves again, climbing onto Izumi’s lap, pushing him down onto the bed. His eyes glint green in the low light, almost predatory. “Sena. You’ve gone too far. Now I’ll never let you go.”

  


Izumi opens his mouth, then fumbles with words and settles for scowling instead. Leo needs to stop being pretty. It’s distracting, and it makes him stupid. “What’s that supposed to mean?” he mutters, reaching a hand up to poke at Leo’s chest. “You know, if you hate the idea, just tell me already.” 

  


“I’m trying to be better,” Leo says, licking over his teeth, feeling the sharp points against his tongue. “And not turn down requests from my brave Knights just because I feel like I don’t deserve them.”

  


He leans down, kissing Izumi soundly on the mouth. “I don’t hate it. I love it. I love you.”

  


“...Oh.” Izumi slumps back, staring up at Leo, sort of amazed at how few words it takes to settle his nerves all at once. Even still--”I thought about kidnapping you,” he bluntly says, curling his fingers into Leo’s shirt. “Even though Naru-kun said that was a bad idea. I would’ve done it, if you didn’t like the apartment idea.” 

  


Leo doesn’t seem terribly concerned, leaning forward on his elbows on Izumi’s chest. “I’m pretty hard to kidnap, though, I think? I bet I would be _really_ hard to kidnap, actually. I’m fast, and I hate being cooped up. I’d get free!”

  


“I know some fancy knots,” Izumi deadpans, letting his arms slink around Leo and drag him flat against him. “You’re not that hard to wrangle. You’re not like Yuu-kun, you’d like being kidnapped and tied up if I did it, probably.”  

  


Leo cocks his head, then hops off of Izumi’s lap, easily evading his arms to kneel on the floor at his feet. “Or I can be a house pet,” he offers, a little too enthusiastically. “No ropes, just a collar. And you can feed me and pet me and I’ll have inspiration on the floor.”

  


Izumi wearily stares at him, and promptly grabs a pillow from his bed, smacking it down atop Leo’s head. “Don’t be stupid, Ou-sama. You aren’t a cat, you _like_ cats. Confine your inspiration to notebooks and me, I’m begging you.” 

  


“If I’m the pet, shouldn’t I be the one begging you?” Leo asks, unperturbed by the lecture, balancing the pillow on his head. “Distract me. I’m trying to feel good and not guilty about saying yes.”

  


“Come back up here.” 

  


Izumi grabs him by the arm, hauling Leo back into bed and rolls to the side with him, wrapping both arms and legs around him. “That last Judgement, when you came back--I never asked you for anything. Everyone else made a request, but I never said anything, did I?” He nuzzles his face into Leo’s neck, mouthing a kiss there. “I was saving it. My request is for you to not feel guilty, like only a stupid king would.”

  


The sudden sting of tears in Leo’s eyes startles him, and he claps a hand over his mouth, afraid of letting out noises when they’d be the kind of embarrassing that even Izumi won’t be able to forgive. Instead, he sucks in a deep breath, then lets it out against Izumi’s ear, wrapping his arms around Izumi’s neck until they don’t feel like they’re trembling anymore, and he’s just a warm heavy weight on top of Izumi’s chest. “Thank you,” he says, and means it.

  


“Mm.” Izumi rolls, flopping Leo onto his back and following after to lie on top of him. _That was a damned good line_ , he thinks, settling down with a content noise. Maybe he’s _great_ at this boyfriend-fiancé-whatever thing. “Yeah, whatever. Ou-sama, warm me up, I’ve been out all day.” 

  


“Okay, I’ll go turn on the heater.”

  


“Dumbass. Read the mood.” 

  


“Eh? Where’s it written?”

  


“Were you always this airheaded?” Izumi demands, and bites Leo’s shoulder. “Warm me up in a _sexy_ way, idiot.” 

  


“Oh. Okay.” 

  


Leo considers for a moment, then stands, wriggling out of his clothes, and starts stripping Izumi as well, worming his way into Izumi’s space until they’re skin on skin, until they’re pressed together from chest to toes, tangled and intent, his flesh prickling with nerves even now. They haven’t been like this together enough times that it’s become routine. Leo wonders if it will ever be something that he can take for granted, something that doesn’t steal his breath and set him on fire. God, he hopes not. “Regular sex?” he breathes, hands sliding down Izumi’s sides. “Or weird sex?”

  


“...I mean,” Izumi manages on a startled laugh, somehow so used to Leo grabbing and stripping him by now that it doesn’t even make him nervous. His hands slide down Leo’s back, spreading his fingers over warm, soft skin to fill his palms with it. “Depends on what you think is weird, Ou-sama.” He _does_ have to check, because with Leo...weird can mean aliens, or worse.

  


Leo shrugs, squirming around to better rub against Izumi’s warm hands, for all his protestations of being cold. “I think everything we’ve done so far is pretty normal, right? I mean, we don’t have to do anything weird. I’ve just never been asked for sex before so I didn’t know what to say.”

  


“I just like touching you.” It’s as honest as Izumi ever can be, and he blames Leo for that entirely. Izumi buries his face into Leo’s neck, nuzzling up to his ear and sucking on the lobe of it before he flicks his tongue into the rim of it. “Ou-sama really is perfect,” he murmurs, shifting against Leo to let one of his thighs slide between his legs. “It’s almost unfair...” 

  


“A genius,” Leo corrects, “not perf-f...” The noise trails into a fluttery little growl as Izumi nuzzles and kisses at his ear, cock rising suddenly at the stimulation. “Sena...nnh, give it to me again, I want it a thousand times.”

  


Izumi’s eyebrows raise in amusement, and he sticks his tongue back into Leo’s ear, deliberately dragging it over every little ridge he can reach. “Huh. I thought you only growled if I bit you,” he hums, breath hot against Leo’s ear. 

  


Leo squeaks and flinches away, curling into a quivering little ball. “S-stop it! I meant give me--eehhhh, now my ear’s all wet, this is the last time I ask you to top me!”

  


“Oiiii, get back here, don’t shake like a squirrel,” Izumi drawls, dragging Leo back before he can get too far. “ _Fine_ , no ear jobs, I get it, I get it. Ou-sama, don’t threaten things like that, you know I like it in me, too.” 

  


Leo scrunches up his face, then shoves his foot in Izumi’s face. “I said it didn’t have to be weird, didn’t I? Why don’t you listen to your king? Hmph, we should janken over who gets it then.”

  


Izumi’s smile is a little too nice when he grabs Leo’s foot and shoves it out of his face. “Ehh, nah, I guess if my king _really_ wants it, I’ll do it how he likes it,” he _sweetly_ says, prowling his way back up and shoving Leo flat onto his back with a hand on his chest. “Putting your gross boy feet in my face--so annoying. I’ll eat you alive.” 

  


Leo flails his arms in a way that all the Knights who know him, truly know him, know mean he doesn’t really want to get away. “Very scary! When Sena has his sweetest smile on, it’s the scariest of all! It means he’s about to take very, very thorough advantage of his king, and there’s nothing I can do about it but enjoy!”

 

“Yeeeep, that’s how it’s gotta be,” Izumi hums, and he leans back, grabs Leo, and flips him over in short order. “Ou-sama’s just so cute,” he murmurs, prowling over him from behind, planting his hands on either side of Leo’s head as he mouths kisses up to the side of his neck from his shoulders. “Slide up onto your knees, I wanna feel your cute ass press against me.”

 

Leo closes his eyes for a moment, letting the full force of Izumi’s words and movements wash over him, letting himself really _feel_ the incredible arousal that comes with his voice, before hoisting himself up onto his knees, pressing back against the swiftly-hardening cock resting against his skin. He breathes, in and out, and lays his head down on the bed next to his forearms. “Sena,” he warns, “last time I was...nervous. This time I think...I’m going to be...fast. I’m already like this.”

 

“Mmn? That’s fine. You wanna go more than once?” _Fast_ is definitely going to be the word for it, judging by how Izumi can feel every quick, shivery little breath that goes through Leo already. It makes his own cock harder, and it’s a good excuse to press forward, letting his cock rub against the curve of Leo’s ass as Izumi reaches over him to shove a hand underneath his pillow, which is where the bottle of lube ended up after the night before. “I bet I can make you come just from fingering _really_ fast.”

 

“Ah...I’ll have to think of something to bet that I don’t mind losing,” Leo barely manages, biting his wrist a little when every movement Izumi makes sends shivers through him. “We can...do it...as many times as you want,” he breathes, shifting his knees apart and flexing his toes. “Ah, I like it like this, Sena. I feel like I can move a lot better than just lying on my back...I can move _with_ you.”

 

“Yeah, I like it this way, too,” Izumi admits, trailing a hand back down Leo’s spine, tiptoeing them along the small of his back. “It’s a nice angle for you, Ou-sama,” he teases, dragging his hand away only to drizzle lube over his fingers before trailing them to his hole. Leo wasn’t kidding about already being wound up, and Izumi’s breath comes faster, feeling every tense little twitch that goes through Leo underneath his fingertips before he lets one, slick finger sink into him. “You feel…way too good inside,” he exhales, shutting his eyes for a moment when his own cock throbs between his legs.

 

Fingers clench into sheets, and Leo groans low in his throat, pushing back against Izumi’s touch as it wriggles inside him, dragging sparks through his most sensitive areas. “Sena...you feel...good, when you touch...right there...”

 

He squeezes his eyes shut, then somehow manages to ask, “Do you want me to say anything...special? Like when I called you, ah, my cat, and you came? I’d do it again if I knew what you wanted to hear...”

 

_Don’t be creepy, don’t be gross!_

 

But Leo is _so_ pretty and _so_ cute, and the way he wriggles back onto his hand is enough to make Izumi’s logical thoughts get thrown out the window. He swallows hard, helplessly pulling his hand back to make it easier to get a second finger inside, and he immediately slides them in past the second knuckle, curling them in deep. “If I tell you,” he breathlessly admits, his own face hot, “and you hate it, j-just…lie and fake it for a minute, or I’ll die.”

 

Leo exhales a deep whine, squirming back, and nods, bracing himself against the bed, hungry for more already. “It’s...it’s better if I have words to say,” he stammers, unable to focus on anything except how delicately Izumi’s fingers are stretching him, how _good_ it feels to have something in there. “Sena, tell me...I want to make you feel good...”

 

 _Here goes nothing._ Turns out, when his dick is hard, he doesn’t have a _lot_ of filters. “Y…you could…” Izumi shuts his eyes for a second, and leans forward, planting his other hand onto the bed as his fingers work Leo from the inside out, finding the perfect place to curl and stroke and milking every bit of it. “You could call me Onii-chan.”

 

Izumi had warned him--fake it for a minute, or he’ll _die_.

 

It’s only because of that that Leo doesn’t immediately dissolve into giggles. Damn, _damn_ , he’d thought it might be _gross_ , but this is just _silly_ \--not to mention, it’s what Ruka-tan calls him, and that’s just unacceptable. Why does Izumi want this anyway? He doesn’t even have siblings!

 

 _Shit. I have to say something. He’ll die!_ “I’ll try,” Leo manages, screwing up his face into a grimace against the sheets. “Ah...Onii-chan...” It feels weird on his tongue. Hopefully it sounds better to Izumi.

 

“Nooope, quit it, that’s the worst.”

 

Pouting now, Izumi immediately pulls back. “You’re a terrible actor, Ou-sama. Ugh, why won’t _anyone_ do it?” he crossly mutters, shoving a hand between Leo’s shoulder blades to deliberately press his face harder into the bed, intent on getting some of his own back by bullying him. “Except Kuma-kun, but he’s fucking weird about it.”

 

“Waaahhhh...” Leo slumps down to the bed, shrugging in defeat. “Sorry, Sena! Ah, I just-- _I’m_ Onii-chan, you know? I’m Ruka-tan’s reliable and cool Onii-chan!”

 

“Don’t talk about your sister when we’re trying to do it, it’s super annoying! Nope, I’m done, climb on it yourself if you want it.”

 

Leo looks over his shoulder, musing. “Well...it’s not soft,” he decides. “So it’d be a shame to let it go to waste. Here goes!”

 

With that, he shoves Izumi down onto his back, and climbs up to straddle him, knees braced on the bed on either side of his hips, scooting forward a little until he can grab Izumi’s cock and move it exactly where he wants it, just pressing against his hole. His eyelashes flutter, and he takes a deep breath before the initial stretch, then sinks down. “A-ah...that’s...easier...than last time...”

 

Turns out it’s pretty hard to keep sulking when Leo is Leo, and when Leo is very literally climbing on his cock. Izumi thinks about being bitchy for a minute, but the achingly tight, slick stretch of Leo around him makes that thought disappear, and he flops back instead, grabbing at Leo’s waist, fingers trembling in an attempt not to just drag him down _faster_. “You’re forgiven,” Izumi groans, his head falling back as he sucks in a deep breath. So _that’s_ what it feels like without a condom—great, actually, so what a shame, he’s not going back to the other way any time soon.

 

Some of the energy that usually laces through Leo during school fires in his belly now, and he lurches, bracing himself on Izumi’s chest, lowering himself down _hard_ for the next few thrusts, making his own mouth fall open as he bounces. His own cock taps against Izumi’s abs each time, a startling, bright shock that almost hurts, but feels better than it doesn’t. “Sena,” he breathes, head tipped back to stare at the ceiling, rocking his hips almost frantically, chasing that feeling that threads through his veins like fire. “Want you to...make music in me...”

 

Yeah, it was cute to think he could stay annoyed.

 

Izumi’s toes curl against the mattress, his fingers biting into Leo’s hips when his own grind up, the sound of slick skin against slick skin making Izumi shudder. He shoves himself up onto his elbows after a moment, his mouth fastening to Leo’s collarbones, to his neck, careless little splashes of bruises left in his wake. “If you get yourself off on my cock like this,” he pants out, hands squeezing harder against Leo’s waist, “I’ll flip you back over and fuck you through the mattress until you come again.”

 

With a promise like that in store, what is there to do?

 

Leo lets out a sound that’s almost a wail, unable to stifle it when he’s so _eager_ , when he’s wound so emotionally tight that he can’t breathe, can’t even _think_ , can’t do anything besides rock up and down on Izumi’s cock frantically fast, using his thighs to make sure it grinds against the best, most delicious parts of him every single time. When he comes, it feels like his insides are melting, shooting out in hot pulses, his body trembling with overeager bliss. “Nnnhh....Senaaa....” Leo says shakily, hands curling and uncurling on Izumi’s chest, chest heaving.

 

It takes _effort_ not to come himself when Leo is squeezing down on him like that, squirming down onto his cock, panting and shivering with every pulse that drips down over his stomach. Izumi shuts his eyes, sucking in a hot, shaky breath, and gives in, gives _up_.

 

Maybe he should be gentler when it comes to pulling Leo off of his lap and tossing him back into the bed, face first, ass up, still trembling and melting. Izumi barely takes a moment to grab the lube again, slicking more over his cock before he eases it back inside, his breath ragged as he sinks in, bent over Leo’s back, face stuffed into his hair. “Ou-sama,” Izumi breathes, smoothing a hand down Leo’s arching back, dragging his fingers through the sweat beading between his shoulders. “Ou-sama, when you act like this…it’s kinda slutty, you know?”

 

Izumi feels huge in him, though Leo doubts the actual size has changed much in the last minute. All he can do is sag down, feeling everything stinging and twitching now, overstimulated to the point that he almost wants to tell Izumi to stop, to give him a moment--

 

But Izumi isn’t acting like he really wants to. For whatever reason, that makes Leo’s cock twitch, and he shoves back, though the shock of it makes him squeak. “Slutty?” he pants, toes curling, head bowed forward. “Nn...you seem...to like it...when I’m slutty, then...”

 

“Mnn, yeah. Ah, that’s a cute noise you keep making, Ou-sama.” It’s a miracle he manages to keep his voice as steady as he does, especially when Izumi shoves in harder, bracing a hand against the bed for leverage, and stifles a low, broken groan into the back of Leo’s shoulder. His cock _aches_ , throbbing with every deliberate shove and roll of his hips, and Izumi mindlessly grabs for a handful of Leo’s hair, his fingers gripping close against his scalp to pull his head back and use it almost like one would reins when he grinds in hard. “B-being all squeaky and whiny like that…makes you sound way more like a princess than a king, when you’re getting fucked.”

 

It really _shouldn’t_ feel good, Leo thinks hazily, that Izumi is being so honestly rough with him. He doesn’t like having his hair pulled, doesn’t like being shoved, doesn’t like being held down--except right now, apparently, because his cock is rock-hard, and the noises in his throat just keep getting louder. He grabs at Izumi’s hand, then gives up, twisting back, playing in to the fantasy that is obviously grabbing hold of Izumi. “C-captive princess,” he suggests, because that sounds like fun when he’s being ravished (and whatever much cruder, more salacious words Izumi is using for it). “You have to...make me yours, so I’ll be ruined when they find me, definitely.”

 

Izumi’s breath comes out hot and fast, and the hand in Leo’s hair pulls his head back sharply. “Ruined for anyone but me,” he insists, and when Leo’s voice threatens to break more, Izumi’s hand moves to clamp over his mouth in warning. “Keep it down, _Ohime-sama._ ”

 

Ahh, maybe he likes that idea too much. Izumi snatches up his phone from the pile of discarded clothes on the bed, licking his lips as he leans back to get a better angle. “Hey, Ohime-sama~…if I take a picture of you like this, d’you wanna see it?”

 

 _Ohime-sama_ is vastly better than either of them saying _Onii-chan_ , and kind of makes his over-stimulated cock go into overdrive, so Leo will take it. He nods, then shakes his head, unable to decide. “I, I don’t...isn’t that kind of thing...” It’s a role in an opera, he realizes, and lets out a breathy sigh, playing his role of the captive lady or something. “T-too lewd, too cruel of you!”

 

“Uh huh. Keep complaining, that’s cute.” Izumi leans forward, shoving Leo’s head back down to the bed, and ends up with a particularly good picture at that angle, showing off Leo’s entire body from where he’s connected to Izumi’s cock. He deliberately presses forward—grinding his cock in deeper, holding it there as he dangles the phone just in front of Leo’s face. “Look, Ohime-sama,” he murmurs, his breath hitching. “Looks like you’re mine already.”

 

A sob spikes in Leo’s throat, and he feels himself tighten around Izumi’s cock, which only makes his cry louder. Izumi feels _huge_ in him right now, and the way that picture of him looks, as if Leo’s just good for being turned over and serviced...

 

“Ruined,” he breathes, sagging down to the bed, hand reaching out to stroke gently over Izumi’s as his cock leaks all over the blanket, his body at its limit. “F-for anyone but you.”

 

Izumi had _wanted_ to milk this out a lot longer, but fuck if he can do that when Leo looks like that, _sounds_ like that. He fumbles, dropping his phone when his body gives up, every line of tension snapping at once, and it’s a miracle he stifles his voice as much as he does into Leo’s hair when he comes, gasping, panting as each pulse of his cock leaves him feeling drained dry. A lazy, languid grind of his hips forward through his orgasm makes him shudder—inside, Leo feels so hot and slick that it makes Izumi’s eyes cross. “F-fuck…fuck, sorry…meant to last, but you’re…” _Way too much in the best ways, so help me._

 

Leo flutters one hand, all the movement he can manage, and sags down, still uncomfortable, but sated and shuddering. “Sena...cuddle me,” he says plaintively. “If I’m a princess then cuddle your princess.”

 

“Y-yeah, yeah, I’ve got you, hold on.”

 

Gingerly, Izumi rolls to the side, hauling Leo with him and snuggling up behind him. “Want me to pull out?” he murmurs, still shaky as he tries to reach for one of his blankets, and ends up sort of haphazardly getting it over them. Good enough. “Nn, enough princess stuff, you’re Ou-sama so I’m cuddling you like you’re Ou-sama.”

 

“Good. I’m your king, yes.” Leo turns just enough to press a sloppy kiss to Izumi’s shoulder, then burrows under the sheets as much as he can while they’re still connected. “You can stay in. Just...cuddle me like my proud, brave Knight.”

 

“So like always, mm?” Izumi slings an arm firmly around Leo, hugging him back against him and settling down to bury his face into the back of Leo’s neck. If his hands worked right now, he’d get his phone and take a selfie before passing out, but…eh. Maybe one less selfie tonight. “Night, Ou-sama.”

 


End file.
